


Hear Me

by smoviescenes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Anal Sex, Bisexual Castiel, Bisexual Dean, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Dean, Butt Plugs, Choking, Dean Has Trust Issues, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Multi, Mute Castiel, Oral Sex, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Violence, Sadism, Self-Hatred, Top Castiel, Top Dean, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Winchester Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-28 07:17:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 41,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8436463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smoviescenes/pseuds/smoviescenes
Summary: When Castiel accidentally crashes another man's car, he doesn't know the road it will take him on.Ever since an accident as a child left him mute, Castiel is struggling to find his voice. However, the feeling that he's living on the sidelines of his own life changes abruptly as he meets Dean, loud, talkative and different from anyone Castiel has ever laid eyes on. Because Dean is the first one who actually takes the time to listen to him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's 11:14 pm, I couldn't fall asleep and this just popped into my head. Don't know where it's headed yet, but I'll be updating the tags along the way if there's something that might be triggering. Hope you like it!

Castiel Novak has never before heard so many swearwords cramped into one sentence. Since he is the reason for it, it kind of makes him blush and want to hide inside his car, but he also feels the urge to apologize to the man next to him. 

”Fucking- I can’t even- FUCK!”

The man’s hands are resting on top of his head, and his eyes are flickering across the scene in front of them. 

Castiel isn’t really a good driver, but he isn’t a bad one either - he is adequate. However, when his sister Anna had insisted on calling him despite knowing that he wouldn’t be able to give her some sort of reply, and he had knocked over his to-go cup of coffee in the middle of an intersection, he wouldn’t have been able to do anything differently even if he was Michael Schumacher. 

The end result wasn’t catastrophic, just a few dents and a broken taillight, but enough to send yet another string of ”goddamn-fucking-piece-of-shit” out of the other man’s mouth. Castiel feels about ready to sink through the ground. 

”What the hell, man? It’s not like you’re driving a fucking truck, there was no reason for you to be out on the wrong side of the road.”

Castiel shrugs, hoping that his eyes speak of how truly sorry and ashamed he is. The man’s expression softens a little when he sees the gesture, and he runs his hands through his hair before letting them come to rest on his hips. 

”I can’t believe this,” he mutters, sighing deeply. ”Just had her fixed and all.” If Castiel hadn’t been blushing before, he certainly is now. He makes a half-hearted attempt at reaching out a hand to pat the man on the shoulder to show his sympathies, but quickly decides against it. It was, after all, his fault that they are in this situation at all. 

”Would you just- I don’t know, what the hell happened? Did you have a heart attack or something?” 

Now Castiel really grows uncomfortable. He taps his toes nervously on the ground, trying to figure out a way to explain himself. 

”Well?” the man continues, growing impatient. With an exasperated sigh Castiel finally pulls out his phone and openes the notes-app that he keeps on the bottom  right corner of his phone. Quickly he types a few words and hands the phone to the man, who takes it hesitantly. 

 

_I apologize, I had too many things in my hands and on my mind. I will pay for the damage done to your car, of course._

 

While the man is reading, Castiel takes a moment to observe his clearly beloved car. Shiny black, smooth lines and made for speed. While Castiel is not a specifically big fan of cars, he can admit that this one is exeptionally beautiful, and probably not entirely cheap to repair. 

”That’s alright, I’m a mechanic so I’ll just be a few hours of my time to fix her up. Sorry I freaked out on you, it’s just - I’m quite fond of her,” the man rambles, and Castiel gives a small smile that disappears at the man’s next words. ”But dude, I’m right here. Just talk to me.” He reaches for the phone again and types out the next set of words that he might as well print and hang around his neck on a big cardboard sign. 

 

_Since I am mute, me talking to you would still be a bit of a one-sided conversation._

 

The man accepts the phone this time as well, and understanding dawns on his face along with a wide grin. Castiel frowns, expecting the usual apologies and excuses and treating him like he is a wild animal that they might scare off. 

”Seriously, you couldn’t have mentioned that a bit sooner? I thought you were in shock or something and couldn’t get any words out,” the man grumbles, handing the phone back. Castiel takes it, but can still not tear his eyes off the other man. He hadn’t even flinched at hearing about his disability. Like it's nothing. Like Castiel is just any other guy who unfortunately has rammed his car.   


 

_If you feel the need to call the police, I will understand._

 

He types the words quickly and settles on just showing the man his screen this time. As soon as he is done reading, he waves at it dismissively and shakes his head. 

”Never mind that, shit happens. And your car doesn’t really look great either, so you’ll have enough to worry about.” Castiel bites his lip at that, regarding his car. The front left headlight is completely smashed, and the metal around it has buckled and looks dangerously close to falling off completely. He lets slip a frustrated snort, immediately on the defensive as the man bursts out a laugh. He clasps a hand on his shoulder and gestures towards the car with his other hand. 

”If you want, I could take a look at your car too. Seems like you’re in dire need of a mechanic, and, well…” he trails off, looking down as Castiel turns his eyes towards him. He can’t be serious. First, Castiel wrecks his car, and now he wants to fix his? Unbelievable, and not acceptable. 

 

_That is very gracious of you, but I must decline. I feel I have wasted enough of your time already._

 

The man reads his words and shrugs at them indifferently.

”Hey, it’s my job to fix other people’s cars, and occasionally my own. Tell you what, if you don’t want to make up your mind now, or if you’re busy or something, you can stop by later. Do you live in Lawrence?” Castiel nods in response, seeing where this is going. ”Great! I work at Singer Auto on Birch street, every weekday from eight to six. Just stop by when you’ve got the time and ask for me at the reception.” 

Castiel waits for him to correct himself, to realize that he just implied that Castiel would need to speak, but the apologize never comes. Castiel is secretely pleased that it doesn’t. 

_Thank you,_ he types, wanting to add more but the two words seeem sufficient somehow. The man grins and smoothly sits in his car, patting the dashboard tenderly. 

”Name’s Dean, by the way. Just so you, you know, can ask for me. In the reception.” He gives a small wave, shuts the door with a creak and soon the engine purrs to life. Castiel is left standing on the side of the road, broken car and a small smile on his face. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo, chapter two. Thank you for the kudos and for reading, can't believe anyone actually found this xx

Once Dean has driven off, Castiel can’t really do anything but get into his car and continue on his way to work. Every time he hits a bump in the road the car makes a loud ”ca-CLUNK”, which has Castiel flinching behind the steering wheel. He is relieved when he reaches the parking lot behind the Walmart where he works and gets an escape from the noise. For now, at least. 

He is late and he knows it, but Gabriel is busy in the office and doesn’t have time for his excuses, for which he is glad. He simply waves him off with a smile and continues his conversation over the phone while Castiel slips away into the changing rooms where his uniform waits for him. 

”Mornin’ Cassie, I was beginning to wonder if I’d see you today!” Balthazar exclaims as Castiel enters the changing rooms. His friend is perched on the small bench beneath the window, a cigarette in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. Castiel rolls his eyes at him and opens his locker with a little more force than necessary. He pulls out the red polo shirt and starts working on the buttons of the dark blue shirt he’d hastily put on that morning. 

”So, what happened? Did you sleep in? Were you stopped by the police?” 

With his chest bare Castiel pulls out his phone from his pocket and quickly types out a summary of the morning’s events. He tosses the phone to Balthazar who yelps as he has to drop one of the two things he has in his hands. His cigarette ends up on the floor, earning a smirk from Castiel

”Very funny,” Balthazar mutters, and gets to reading what Castiel has written. He whistles a low tune just as Castiel shuts his locker and turns around, ready to get to work.

”Sounds like quite the adventure, my friend. So when are you going to see this mystery mechanic?” His words entices yet another eye-roll from Castiel who simply snatches his phone back and leaves the room without waiting for Balthazar to follow. 

”Hey, wait up! No point getting pissed at me, Cassie, I’m just curious. Was he good looking?” Castiel doesn’t want to reply to that, but his cheeks does it for him by turning red. 

”He was, wasn’t he?” Balthazar cheers, softly punching Castiel’s shoulder. ”You’re such a flirt, no wonder he told you he’d fix your car. When are you going? Can I come?” 

Castiel’s frown is enough of an answer to get Balthazar to stop talking. They enters the shop and Balthazar clasps his hand on Castiel’s shoulder, the same one Dean touched not even an hour earlier. 

”I’ll see you for lunch, Cassie, and I expect a full report by then.” Castiel waves a goodbye at him and heads towards the dairy section.

His job is simple, and when Gabriel had given him the instructions a few years earlier there hadn’t really been much to say: make sure none of the shelves are empty. If someone has a question, point them towards the cash registers where they are most likely to find someone who can actually help them. 

It isn’t a glamorous job, but it is something to do and something Castiel could manage. He always has his phone set to a note which read ”I’m mute and can’t reply to your questions - please go to the cash registers.” so all he has to do is unlock the phone when customers approach him. Which they keep doing, for some reason. 

 

”Hi, excuse me? Do you know the price of this-” a voice calls, and he knows it is directed to him. He pulls out his phone and shows it to the woman, who immediately turns flushed. 

”I’m so sorry, I- I didn’t mean to disturb you. Sorry,” she stutters, and backs away quickly. 

Castiel glances at the time before putting the phone back in his pocket. 11:48, just ten minutes until he can sneak away for lunch. He starts stacking the shelf with butter as another voice is heard. 

”Excuse me, could you tell me where to find the butter?” the man asks, and Castiel half-smiles as he gestures towards the shelf in front of him. The man laughs shortly and accepts the package that Castiel hands to him. ”Thank you,” he says, and is gone just as quick. 

Balthazar is waiting for him in the break room with his cheeks stuffed with food and a grin on his face. 

”Here he comes!” he mumbles through the food and a small chuckle spreads across the table. Hanna, Inias, Alfie and Michael look up at Castiel, and he feels like running away from them all. He braces himself and opens the fridge, where a bowl of soup is waiting for him, and brings it to the microwave to heat. 

By the time he has sat down on the chair next to Balthazar, they have delved into another conversation that doesn’t include crashed cars and handsome mechanics, for which Castiel is grateful. He eats his soup in silence, like always, and barely listens to his co-workers as they speak and laugh and just make noise. Sometimes Castiel wonders if anyone would listen to him even if he had a voice. 

”Cassie, tell us about your morning. I’m not sure Balthazar’s story is entirely true,” Hanna suggests as the previous conversation dies out. He frowns slightly, because he’s not comfortable being the center of attention, but it’s difficult to refuse Hanna’s kind eyes. He takes out his phone and begins typing, trying not to cringe at the heavy silence that falls in the room. 

When he’s finished, he hands the phone to Balthazar who reads it out loud. 

 

_There’s not much to tell, really. I was focused on other things than driving, and forgot to turn right in the intersection before it was too late and I hit another car. The man I hit got a bit upset, but in the end he convinced me too take my car to the repair shop where he works. I don’t know if I’m going yet, but it feels rude not to._

 

His words always sound strange in Balthazar’s voice, but he has had no choice but to get used to it. It isn’t like he can speak for himself. Michael and Inias shrug at what Castiel told them through Balthazar and starts discussing the apparently very rude customer that they’d had to help that morning. Hanna is still watching Castiel with an unreadable expression, but smiles when their eyes met.

”You should go, Castiel. Maybe ask if you can buy him lunch or dinner, to formally apologize.” Castiel nods thoughtfully, and wonders if he could go through an entire meal with the man. _Dean_ , he corrects himself, liking the sound of the name in his brain. 

 

His shift ends at 4 pm, and by the time he is back on the highway, accompanied by the constant ”ca-CLUNK”, he has made up his mind. He is going to go to the repair shop, and he is going to ask if Dean will have dinner with him. Just to say thanks properly, and apologize again for the entire situation. 

He has turned the GPS on in his phone, and finds solace in the voice that directs him to Singer Auto, Birch street. He spots the sign that says ”Singer Auto” before the GPS-lady, and turns in to the large parking lot beside the building. Three large gates take up the most of the wall, two of them open with cars visible inside, one on the ground and one raised up in the sky. For a moment, Castiel thinks he can spot a familiar face in there, but it disappears quickly and he turns to the little door with the sign ”reception”. 

Inside, a few chairs and a couch take up most of the space in front of the desk that stretches all the way from the left wall to the right, with the exception of a few feet where you can walk through to the other side of the desk. Behind it, Castiel spots a woman who is typing on a computer. Besides the two of them, the room is empty. 

As Castiel approaches the desk, the woman stands up with a smile, even though she’s walking away from him. 

”Be with you in just a minute, dear,” she says, her voice strangely comforting. Castiel smiles at her and watches as she goes through a door that undoubtedly leads into the workshop itself. He takes out his phone to write up an explanation for her in advance, so she doesn’t have to wait for him when she returns. 

Just as she promised she is back barely a minute later, and Castiel has finished typing. 

”So, how can I help you?” He hesitantly holds out his phone to her, but she takes it without taking a beat and quickly scans through his words. ”Dean told me that you might show up, but he wasn’t sure. Come on through, I’ll take you to him.” Castiel is surprised at how easily she accepts his inability to speak, and quietly trails after her into the workshop. He is met by a familiar sight, Dean’s black car, spread out in front of him behind the closed gates. And with his head and torso buried inside the trunk of the car is Dean, grunting as he’s clearly doing something that requires force. 

”Come on, baby, come on- _that’s my girl_ ,” he exclaims and emerges, hands oily and dirty and a wide grin on his face that somehow grows even wider when he notices Castiel. 

”Hey, I wasn’t sure you’d dare to come here!”

”Dean,” the woman hisses, giving him a sharp look but Castiel smiles reassuringly. He appreciates Dean’s lack of pity for him, and, quite frankly, his rudeness as well. It is refreshing in a way he has not experienced before. 

”This is Ellen, mother hen of the year,” Dean chuckles, wiping his hands on his overall. 

”I’m going to leave you two, and Dean, can you at least _try_ to be decent? Don’t want to scare the customers, you know,” she says, hinting at something that Dean apparently understands, judging by the way his eyes darts to the floor and he rubs the back of his neck gingerly. 

”It wasn’t _that_ bad,” he mumbles, but Ellen has already left. With a snort Dean straightenes up and gestures at Castiel to follow him around the car, to the side that Castiel had hit. It doesn’t look quite as horrible as it had that morning, leading Castiel to believe that Dean has already spent a few hours on the car. Dean seems to be reading his thoughts, because he laughs and pats the side of the car affectionately. 

”A bit of new paint and she’ll be back to all her former glory, don’t you worry! So, tell me, where’s that crappy volvo of yours?” he asks, and Castiel frowns at his words. His car isn’t _crappy_. Again, Dean reads his expression and holds is hands up in a placating gesture. ”Sorry, not crappy. Your luxurious golden carriage.” Castiel rolls his eyes at him, not knowing how to respond or whether to reply at all. Thankfully, Dean doesn’t let the silence play on for too long. 

”So, you know, do you want me to fix it up for you? It’ll cost you, of course, but it shouldn’t take too long. I’ve been working on baby for barely two hours, and she’s nearly done.” Castiel cocks an eyebrow at the endearment, mouthing _baby_ at Dean, whose lips split up into a grin once more. 

”She’s my baby, and I’ll punch you in the face if you question that. Haven’t you got a name for your golden carriage?” Castiel scoffs and shakes his head, wondering why he’d name his car. All it really did was take him from A to B, and barely that, as it turned out. 

”Well, d’you want to leave the golden carriage here in my perfectly capable hands? You can just hand the keys and a phone number to Ellen, and she’ll give you a call once it’s finished. We’ve got a few cars in line, though, so I might not have time for it until the end of the week.” Castiel gives an awkward thumbs up, not knowing what else to do. However, Dean only smiles at him and leans against his car. When he doesn’t leave, Dean nudges his elbow with a greasy finger. 

”Something else on your mind there, cowboy?” Castiel doesn’t want to ask him, because Dean could take it the wrong way, because Castiel’s bisexual and Dean probably isn’t, because he’s embarrassed that he has to talk through his phone. But there’s something in that soft smile that’s reassuring, and Castiel can’t help but trust the other man. He slowly pulls out his phone, fingers shaking as he types out the words that he would like to be able to say out loud.

 

_I was wondering if you would let me buy you dinner, seeing as I have both destroyed your car and now wasted your time._

 

He holds the phone out, changes his mind and tries to pull it back, but Dean’s fingers are wrapped around his wrist and all he can do is watch and wait as he reads. 

”Dude, stop saying that you’re wasting my time,” he frowns, but when he meets Castiel’s eyes he’s smiling again. ”Well, I’m not the kind of guy who’d say no to free food. I get off at six, so gimme some time to shower and change. Is seven alright?” Castiel nods eagerly, feeling a smile creep up on his face as well. 

 

_Why don’t you pick a restaurant?_ he types, and Dean grabs his wrist again to hold it steady while he reads. 

”How about BL burgers? D’you know it?” Castiel shakes his head, barely noticing that Dean doesn’t let go of his arm. ”It’s a few miles north of the town center, I could pick you up at your place. Where do you live?” Castiel types out his adress, feeling Dean’s fingers ghost over his skin as he does. He lives downtown, in a small apartment with his sister, and Dean nods when he reads. 

”I know where that is. So, I’ll stop by at seven?” Again, Castiel finds himself at a loss trying to figure out how to reply, so he flashes another thumbs up. Dean doesn’t laugh, doesn’t find it as awkward as Castiel does, he simply gives him a soft smile and finally lets go of Castiel’s wrist. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the lovely user elfe who provided the phonetic version of "Castiel", I owe you xx

Dean Winchester is going on a date. Well, perhaps not a _date_ -date, but it’s dinner with the hot guy who grazed his baby that morning. The mute, reserved, dark-haired guy with unbelievably blue eyes, who makes Dean flush and his hands sweat, and he’s smiling all the way home from work, but he doesn’t find it in him to care. Even Bobby noticed that something was up when he left, muttering at him to ”stop looking like such a goddamn idiot”. 

But he’s going on a date, and damn it, he’s going to enjoy it. He realizes when he leaves that he doesn’t even know the guy’s name, and that he should have checked with Ellen if she’d gotten it as he leaved the keys to his wrecked volvo. 

Dean feels bad for the guy, because he had kind of freaked after the crash (that wasn’t really a crash, more like two cars scraping across each other), before he got his baby back to the garage where he noticed that it wasn’t that bad at all. All he’d had to do was straighten out the few bumps, change the taillight, and tomorrow he’d give her a paint job. Good as new, as he’d told the guy.

He parks the impala outside his apartment and ascends the stairs two steps at a time. He tries unlocking the door with the wrong key, which takes him several attempts to realize and he hopes that no one noticed him. A cold shower is what he needs now, to calm the fuck down and stop behaving like a teenager going to prom. 

It’s just dinner, after all. The guy only wants to buy him food to say he’s sorry again, which Dean really wishes that he’d stop doing. 

He gets out of the shower shivering, but at least cleaner and more composed than before. There’s still some dirt under his nails, which he picks at while stumbling into the bedroom, completely naked. It’s not like there’s anyone around to see him, anyways. 

Pulling on a pair of clean underwear and jeans, he starts rifling through his shirts. A t-shirt feels a bit underdressed, seeing as the guy had worn a button-down when he came to the garage. Dean settles on a black henley, rolling the sleeves up slightly. It’s 6:45 already, because he sucks at taking quick showers and he knows it. He grabs his jacket, the keys to the impala and his phone, steps out the door and runs back in again to put on some deoderant. 

He’s actually nervous, and he forces himself to put those thoughts away, the notion that he’s going on a date with a handsome guy. 

It’s just dinner. With a guy. 

Dean hasn’t had dinner with a guy that’s not his brother for years. 

 

He turns the engine off with a flick of his wrist and glances at the apartment building beside him. It’s bricks and wood and dark glass, and would have been intimidating if not for the streetlight that illuminates the sidewalk. Just as Dean beings to wonder whether he should go knock on the door, it is opened, and the guy comes out. He raises his hand as a greeting and gets in the car.

Oh, he just looks like he belongs there, next to Dean on the leather seat. He’s changed from the previously dark blue button down to a light blue one, with what looks like a trench coat folded in his arms. 

”Hey,” Dean greets, feeling his voice crack. The guy smiles crookedly, fiddling a bit with the fabric in his hands. He suddenly feels like this was all a mistake, and that the guy doesn’t really want to have dinner with him but feels obliged to now that he’s promised. He clears his throat and starts the engine, just to have something to do with his hands. 

”So, I kind of never got your name,” Dean states, hoping that the guy doesn’t find him too weird. He glances over, and sure enough, the guy’s typing on his phone. Before he can ask, the screen is turned towards him and he frowns as he pronounces the name.

”Cas-teel?” he tries, but the guy shakes his head. He types again, and Dean reads.

 

_Do you know phonetics?_ Followed by, /,kəstɪ'el/. Dean has to laugh at that, because no, he does not know phonetics and he doesn’t dare to read it out loud.

”How about I call you Cas?” he suggests, and is rewarded with a blinding smile that takes him by surprise. 

”Alright, Cas. I’m Dean Winchester, pleased to officially meet you.” 

 

_My full name is Castiel Novak. It is very nice to meet you too, Dean._

Dean’s eyes flicker from the screen to the road and back, not wanting to crash twice in the same day. He turns on the radio without thinking about it, and starts drumming along with the song on the steering wheel. Cas is grinning in the seat next to him, and he decides that he can afford to make a fool out of himself by singing along. The noiseless laughter that spills from Cas’ lips is definitely worth it. 

They reach the restaurant, which is more of a diner, and head inside in silence. Dean picks his regular booth, and grins as Charlie approaches them with a notepad and pen in hand. 

”Hey, Dean, and Dean’s friend. You know what you want to order?” the redhead asks, her wide smile contagious and Dean gives her arm a squeeze. 

”How are you, Charlie?”

”Can’t complain, Benny’s given me the weekend off to go to ComicCon with Jo,” she squeals, clearly pleased. Benny’s booming voice is heard through the diner, from where he’s standing in the kitchen.

”Charlie, I said take their orders, not harass them. You can chat with Dean after your shift’s over.” 

”Like you never pause to talk to Dean when he gets here,” she protests, and Dean gives Benny a wave. He casts a glance at Cas, worried that he’ll be mad for not getting any attention, but his nose is buried in the menu and he barely notices when Dean tries to get his attention. 

”Hey, Cas? You ready to order?” He reaches out to touch his arm, not realizing what he’s doing until Cas’ head snaps up and gives him a look that he can’t quite read. Dean pulls his hand back, offering a shaky smile. 

”I’ll have the bacon and cheese-”

”-burger with extra fries, extra cheese, extra bacon and no salad. Got it,” Charlie fills in, already writing on her notepad. She turns to Cas next, who hesitantly points to a cheeseburger.

”And a cheeseburger. You want fries?” Cas nods, and Dean saves him from Charlie’s next question, sensing that he’s starting to grow uncomfortable even though he has no reason to be.

”To drink?”

”Two beers will be fine, thank you Charlie,” Dean says with a smile, and Charlie saunters off to the next booth. 

The diner is quite busy, but Dean hopes that Cas will notice how no one really pays them any attention. He looks tense, but a bit less now that Charlie’s gone. 

”She can be a bit intense,” Dean explains, and now he’s the one growing uncomfortable because he doesn’t know what to say. What do you say to a guy you don’t know but never want to let out of your sight again? Thankfully, Cas pulls out his phone and begins typing, the sign that he has something to say. 

 

_It’s alright, Dean. I understand that you come here frequently?_

 

Dean shrugs as he explains, ”Benny’s an old friend of mine, and I’m telling you, he makes the best goddamn burgers in town.” 

 

_I can’t wait_ , Cas replies, and luckily Charlie arrives with their drinks just then, because Dean wouldn’t know how to keep that conversation going. Once she’s left, he takes a sip of his beer and wonders if Cas even likes beer. The guy does take a sip, however, and he seems to like the taste. 

 

_So, when you’re not working at the repair shop or having dinner with strangers, what do you do, Dean?_ Cas asks, and Dean wonders if he really wants to know or is just being polite.

”You sure you want me blabbering about myself? My life ain’t exactly interesting.”

 

_I’m sure it is worth listening to. And I’d prefer it to sitting here in silence, even though that’s what I would usually enjoy._

 

”Alright, if you say so,” Dean mutters, and takes another sip of his beer before trying to figure out what to say. And as always, his mind races to his brother. Might as well start there.

”Well, I have a little brother. Sammy. He’s in California at the moment, studying law at Stanford.” Cas’ eyes widen at that, encouraging Dean to continue. ”He got a full ride, kid’s a real Einstein. He used to live her in Lawrence with me, but a year ago he moved there and now he’s actually sharing a flat with his girlfriend, Jessica. I’ve only talked to her over the phone, but she seems to be a tough girl. Perfect for Sam, he needs someone to look after him. I, uh, I live by myself in an apartment a few miles from you, and as you know I work at Bobby’s garage.”  
Cas mouths ”Bobby”, like a question, and Dean explains. ”Bobby Singer, he owns the place. Well, Ellen sort of runs it, so they own it together. They’re basically mine and Sammy’s parents, and their daughter, Jo, is like our little sister.”

Cas points towards Charlie, and Dean remembers that she mentioned Jo earlier. ”Charlie is Jo’s girlfriend. They fight like two demons, but always make it up to each other. And-” Dean hesitates now, not knowing if Cas will take offense if he tells her about Jo. He doesn’t want to make him feel like his disability isn’t that bad, that there are people out there who are worse off. 

If Dean was to choose between being mute and being blind, he would choose the former. 

”Jo’s blind, actually. She was born that way, so we’re all used to it.” Cas takes a beat at that, his eyes flickering across the room before landing on what Dean guesses is Charlie. 

”I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, but I guess that you usually get quite a reaction when you tell people that you’re mute?” Cas nods, still not looking at Dean. It’s infuriating. ”So if my reaction, and Ellen’s for that matter, startled you, that’s the reason.” 

The food arrives just then, and Dean is happy to take an enormous bite of his burger. He groans loudly as he swallows, the bacon and cheese melting in his mouth. God, he might be having a heart attack for this, but he couldn’t care less. A few bites in, Dean returns to the land of the living and eyes Cas, who has taken a bite of his burger as well but has put it down on the plate in front of him. 

He wonders what kind of thoughts are going through the man’s head. If he’s bored, if he wants to go home, or if he’s actually enjoying himself as much as Dean is. It’s kind of difficult to tell. 

Cas’ phone is on the table next to him, and he types out a few words with one hand before showing it to Dean. 

 

_Please, continue telling me about yourself. I know I am not the most entertaining company._

 

A strange feeling lodges itself in Dean’s throat at Cas’ words. On the contrary, Dean actually enjoys Cas’ presence. The way he rolls his eyes when Dean says something silly, his dark hair that looks so soft that Dean just wants to run his hands through it, his chapped lips that he wets with his tongue every now and then. 

But, Dean can’t tell him that. Because, after all, this is not a date. It’s just dinner, and Cas will probably forget about it the second they will part ways later that evening. It upsets Dean, to think that they might not see each other again (except for when he picks up the car, but Dean usually doesn’t have the time to hold long conversations while he’s at work). Cas picks up a french fry and dips it in the little container of ketchup, meeting Dean’s eyes as he bites it in half. 

That does it for Dean. He’s going to flirt the hell out of this son of a bitch. 

”Shit, Cas, the last time someone looked at me like that, I got laid,” he grins, feeling exceptionally smug as a blush spreads on Cas’ cheeks. Maybe not such a bad idea, after all. 

”I’ve got to tell you about this thing Sammy did once when we were kids…” he begins, and the rest of the evening is spent reminiscing old memories, talking about rock music and classical cars, admitting that he prefers a night on the couch watching a movie to going out. All the while, Cas gives him his full attention, his cheeks turning beet read every time Dean lifts an eyebrow with a smirk or leans in to touch his arm fleetingly. 

He adores watching Cas trying to compose himself, but more than that he enjoys the way his impossibly blue eyes shine at him every time they meet his. 

The hours tick by, and only when Cas hides a yawn behind his arm does Dean think to look at the clock on the wall. 10:30 pm. The diner is closing soon, and Dean knows that the night can’t last forever but he still wishes that it could. 

”So…” he says, not knowing what else there is to say. Cas smiles fondly at him, tilting his head ever so slightly. ”We should probably get going. Benny and Charlie will want to go home soon.” Cas nods, and Dean hopes that the look in his eyes holds a bit of the regret that he himself is feeling. If only they could stay. Cas is good company, he makes Dean laugh with his countless expressions and Dean feels noticed. For just a few hours, he’s felt important. 

”I’ll get the bill,” Dean mumbles, waving at Charlie to come over. Before he can pull out his wallet, Cas’ hand is on his arm and his phone is between them.

 

_No, Dean. I said I would treat you to dinner tonight, and I am a man of my word._

 

Dean laughs at that, and raises his shoulders. ”Alright, I won’t stop you. Make sure to leave a bit of a tip, or Charlie will never forgive you,” he jokes, managing to make Cas roll his eyes once more. 

Cas pays dutifully, and Dean holds the door open for him when they leave, ignoring Charlie’s ”aww” from inside the restaurant. They get in the car and don’t speak until they reach Cas’ apartment. 

”I had a really good time,” Dean mumbles, a bit shy as Cas turns his eyes from the dark night sky to look at him. He lifts his hand just an inch before dropping it again, but Dean doesn’t miss the motion. 

”So, I guess I’ll see you. You know, when you come to pick up the car.” Cas nods, and his eyes are definitely on Dean’s lips now. They feel dry under the scrutinizing gaze, and Dean licks them nervously. He raises his hand and softly caresses Cas’ jaw, fingers running across the stubbled skin. 

Cas doesn’t speak, but his eyes tell Dean everything he needs to know, and when he leans in for a kiss he knows that they’ve both been waiting for it the entire night.

Cas’ lips are chapped but soft, and he sighs blessedly as Dean pulls away just a fraction. 

”Even better than I’d imagined,” Dean rasps, joining their lips once more. When Cas has left nothing but emptiness behind him in the car, Dean closes his eyes, wondering if it’s possible to explode from happiness.

”Definitely a date,” he says to no one, and starts the engine.


	4. Chapter 4

Castiel suffers through the next few days at work. He shows people the way to the reception after they are embarrassed at asking him for help, he has lunch with his co-workers in silence, and he decides never to tell Balthazar anything ever again after the brit refuses to shut up about Dean Winchester and The Very Nice Kiss In The Very Nice Car. Hanna has way too many follow-up questions as well, but at least she’s being nice about it.

Balthazar starts every day by shouting ”CASSIE HAVE YOUR HEARD FROM DEAN YET?” at the top of his lungs. It all calms down slightly by Friday lunch, when Gabriel enters the break room just as Balthazar is bombarding Castiel with the same sting of questions as the previous days.

”Batlhazar, knock it off,” he says, mumbling around the ever-present lollipop in his mouth. ”Got some good news for you guys, those Christmas bonuses that you never got last year because of the poor economy are being turned into Spring bonuses! The CEO thinks you deserve them, although I can’t imagine why.”

”Hey, we work hard!” Balthazar exclaims, pulling out a cigarette just for the sake of annoying Gabriel. Their boss snatches the cigarette from between Balthazar’s lips and tosses it in the trash can, giving him an angry look. 

”Maybe I’ll take your bonus for myself, Balthazar,” he warns, but the anger quickly seeps from him. ”Alright, back to work. We’ve got stuff to sell and customers to please!” 

The little group clean up the remnants of their lunch and soon Castiel is back in the dairy section, avoiding customers and thinking about green eyes that he’s going to see in a few hours. 

He takes the bus to Birch street, the same one he took on Monday once he’d left the car in Dean’s hands. All the seats are occupied, which is typical since his feet ache and his back is tired, and he ends up next to a quite big and quite sweaty man who repeatedly burps in his direction, the stench making Castiel want to gag. He endures, however, like he always does, and is the first one off the bus once it reaches North avenue, only a few blocks away from Singer Auto. 

The walk takes just under five minutes, and a happy sight reaches him on the parking lot next to the repair shop: his car, looking as good as new and nearly sparkling in the sunlight. Castiel feels giddy just watching it, but refrains from touching it just because it would feel too much like copying Dean. He enters the reception and is met by a warm smile.

”Hello, Cas,” Ellen greets as she looks up from behind the desk. ”Dean finished a few hours ago, I’ve got the key for you right here.” He approaches the desk and pulls out his wallet. He has no idea what a repair like this costs, and the Spring bonus that Gabriel promised them couldn’t have come at a better time. 

”That’ll $150. Cash or credit?” Cas mouths ”cash”, unsure if she will understand, but she simply rephrases the question: ”Do you want to pay cash?” He nods, giving her a grateful smile. Just as he’s been given the key and a receipt, the door to the workshop is opened and Dean walks in, scratching his left temple and leaving a black smudge behind.

”Ellen, have you heard anything about the new brake pads? I needed them yesterday, and Bobby won’t give me a break-” he cuts himself off as he spots Castiel, quickly wiping his hands on his overall. 

”I’ll deal with Bobby, don’t you worry. You wanna talk Cas through what you did with his car?” she smirks, giving him a peck on the cheek before disappearing through the door. Before it closes, her voice reaches them, yelling ”Robert Singer, you better stop harassing our employees!” Dean treads slightly on his heels, but relaxes when Castiel tilts his head, his corners pulling up into a small smile. 

”Come on, let’s go have a look at your golden carriage,” he says, and they may or may not have accidentally touched as they walked out the door. 

”It wasn’t that bad, really, just straightened out the dents and replaced the light for you. I suppose we were both lucky, it could have gone much worse.” Castiel nods in agreement, looking at the smooth metal that only a few days ago was an uneven as the sea in a storm. He hopes that his expression shows how impressed he is by the work that Dean’s done. When he reaches for the door handle to get in the car, because there is really no reason for him to stay except to drink in Dean’s presence for a few more minutes, Dean clears his throat and his hand flies up to the back of his neck, a gesture Castiel is already growing quite fond of. 

”I was wondering, if, you know, you’d want to have dinner with me. Tomorrow night. I could cook something, I’m really a great cook actually, and we could rent a movie or watch TV or just hang out, or something, I really don’t-” 

Castiel manages to shut him up with a look. Dean bashfully stares at the ground, only looking up when Castiel holds his phone out for him.

 

_That sounds lovely. Time?_

 

”How about six o’clock?” Castiel nods, giving a thumbs up that Dean reciprocates. And if he leaned in to kiss Dean before driving home, no one could really blame him. 

 

Castiel wakes from not being able to breathe. Panic sears through his chest and lodges itself in his throat, threatening to darken his vision and pull him away from consciousness.

He frantically reaches out to the bedside table, his fingers spasming as he makes a grab for the inhalator that helps widen his trachea and allow him to pull in the oxygen he so desperately needs. He drops it, twice, and can feel himself floating farther and farther away when he finally wraps his lips around it and inhales with as much force as he can muster. It helps, but only a little, and he pops two of the pills for his lungs, swallowing them dry before he lets himself sink back in his bed. 

Footsteps approach his room, and the door creaks open. 

”Are you alright?” Anna’s voice calls, and he tiredly knocks once on the wall. One for yes, two for no. He supposes that three means ”help me I’m choking”, but he’s yet to try that one out. 

”Do you need anything?” 

_Yes,_ he thinks. He needs an embrace, he needs someone to hold him and stroke his hair while he suffers through the rest of the night. He’s not going to fall back asleep, and he knows it. 

Anna understands his silence, and he can feel the dip of the bed as she climbs into it, making him move to the side to make room for her. She snuggles against his back, her warm breath against his skin, and before long her breathing has evened out to the degree that reveals that she is sleeping. 

He feels like crying, but has no energy left to do it. With eyes wide open he stares into the darkness, trying to remember the last time he had a full night’s sleep. 

 

Anna wants to ask him about last night, but Castiel knows that she won’t. She thinks that it only happens a few times every month, but the truth is that it happens every night and she just doesn’t wake up every time. She does, however, ask him where he’s going when he gets dressed for the evening. He flips through his wardrobe, discarding every shirt he touches because it’s too light, too dark, puffs out around his waist or just isn’t good enough. 

”I’m guessing that I’ll be home alone tonight?” she asks, and Castiel barely spares the time to knock once on the door of the wardrobe in response. He finds a white shirt, wondering if it’s too fancy, but puts it on. 

”That looks nice on you,” Anna comments, helping him straighten out the collar. ”Castiel, are you going on a date?” He knocks once, head buried in the wardrobe again as he tries to find a tie. 

”I think a tie is a bit overkill, don’t you?” she suggests, and Castiel nods in agreement. It’s just dinner at Dean’s apartment. Maybe wearing a shirt is too much-”

”You look great,” Anna reassures him, combing through his hair in an attempt to make it more flat. He flashes her a wide smile, knowing that his nervousness shines through but she doesn’t mention it. 

”Go have fun, I won’t wait up for you,” she says with a smile, and follows him to the front door. He can feel her eyes glued to the car as he drives off, but all thoughts of his sister are quickly replaced with thoughts of Dean Winchester. 

Dean opens the door before Castiel is done knocking. He makes way for Castiel to come inside, and shuts the door behind him.

”I saw your car on the street,” he explains, and takes Castiel’s coat to hang it up on one of the hooks next to the door. 

”Come on in, the food’s ready in a few minutes. I hope you like lasagna!” Castiel nods approvingly, and as he steps inside to the living room he feels like he’s suddenly surrounded by comfort and safety. This is Dean’s home, and there are little traces of him scattered around the room that make Castiel smile. 

A car magazine on the sofa table, a picture of a young Dean and a boy who has to be his brother. A sweatshirt left on the couch. 

”It’s not much, but it’s more than enough for me. Bathroom’s just to the left of the front door, if you need it.” Dean is standing in the middle of the living room, the sun shining in through the windows and illuminating his magnificent outline. Castiel wants to touch every inch of that perfect freckled skin, but has to refrain from it for now. It seems as though Dean has similar thoughts on his mind, because he sighs softly and runs a hand through his hair. 

”My god, Cas, you are so beautiful,” he says, and Castiel can’t quite take in the fact that Dean just uttered those words. Before he knows what happened, the green eyes are no more than two feet away, and he feels like he should pinch himself to check if he’s dreaming. 

”I-” Dean tries, but cuts himself off to lick his lips. Castiel takes the opportunity to reach his hand out and place it on Dean’s jaw, stroking the skin with his thumb. ”Can I kiss you?” he whispers, and Castiel replies by leaning in to press their lips together. It’s soft and innocent at first, and Dean tastes like oregano and tomato. Cas hums against his lips and prods at them with his tongue, licking his way into Dean’s mouth once he’s gained access. Dean groans, and it’s the most satisfying noise Castiel has ever heard. He cards his hands through soft, golden brown hair and leans into the touch of Dean’s hand on the back of his neck. 

”I have to get the lasagna out of the oven,” Dean mumbles against his lips once they’ve parted slightly. Castiel makes an unhappy sound, which makes Dean crack the most gorgeous grin. ”It’s worth it, don’t you worry.” 

Castiel follows Dean into the kitchen, where he’s met by the wonderful smell that is pasta, tomato, cheese and minced meat mixed together. He sits at the table that Dean has decorated with plates, cutlery and glasses, and takes in the view from the window next to him. Buildings spread out as long as the eye can see, with a few trees poking up here and there. The sun is on its way down, painting everything in beautiful colors of pink and red. 

That includes Dean, whose shirt looks like it’s on fire as he carries the ovenware to the table and sets it down in between their plates. 

”Please, help yourself,” he says, and goes to fetch them both something to drink. ”You want a beer?” he calls, and on reflex Castiel knocks on the table once. Dean’s head jerks towards the front door, then to Castiel. ”Did you just knock?” He nods ruefully, and is already typing on his phone by the time Dean has joined him at the table. 

 

_My sister and I have set up a system, where one knock means yes and two knocks means no. It is more efficient than her having to watch me to see if I shake my head or nod._

 

”Huh,” Dean grunts, popping open the beer for Castiel and then himself. ”One knock yes, two knocks no. I think even I might be able to remember that.” 

Castiel takes a piece of the lasagna and sniffs on it, already looking forward to his second round. Dean watches him as he digs in to the food, amused look on his face. As their eyes meet, he raises his hands and shakes his head.

”Oh no, don’t let me interrupt. I’ll be over here with my own plate, if you want anything.” Castiel frowns at that, but quickly discards it as he takes another bite. Pasta is _heavenly_ , and he won’t ever hear someone suggest otherwise.

They eat in silence, but it’s comfortable and they share quite a few looks, ending up in a competition of trying to make the other one laugh. Dean pretty much snickers at everything Castiel does, but all he has to do to send Castiel crying with laughter is slowly raise an eyebrow and give a suggestive wink. 

It’s strange, but he can’t remember the last time he laughed properly. And when Dean winks at him again, he doesn’t know how he could have lived without it. 

They move from the kitchen to the living room, ending up on either side of the couch facing each other. Dean’s legs are stretched out while Castiel keeps his bent, but he knows that if he were to stretch out as well their feet would touch and it’s a very tantalizing thought. Dean tells him about his day, what cars he fixed, Bobby and Ellen’s constant bickering, and Castiel can’t get enough of his voice. It’s low and raspy and makes the air in Castiel’s lungs vibrate. 

When it’s clear that Dean has grown tired of talking about himself, even though Castiel could have listened to it for the rest of his life, he shifts a little and eyes Castiel. 

”Will you tell me something about yourself?” 

Castiel shrugs, because what is there to say, really? His life consists of waking up and going to work and coming home and being awake all night because his lungs aren’t really cooperative once he’s asleep. Dean is the most exciting thing to happen to him in years. 

”I want to get to know you, Cas. Want to figure out what makes you tick, the thoughts that pass through that gorgeous mind of yours. I want to know why your eyes look at me like I am the sun on a rainy day.” He moves closer, his hand suddenly on Castiel’s knee. Castiel knows that he can sense his distress, because he starts rubbing little soothing circles through the fabric of his slacks. 

”I want you to tell me things, Cas, things you have never told anyone else,” he whispers, slowly making his way over Cas’ body until his hands are resting on the sides of his neck. Castiel knows that it’s coming, but the kiss still takes him by surprise. For a second he loses himself in it, before his mind has time to process all the things that Dean said and he can feel the good-old anxiety spiking in his chest. 

Dean wants to know things about him. He wants to listen to what he has to say. 

It scares Castiel to death, because no one ever just _listens_. 

He steels himself against the black hole that used to be is heart, and forces a smile. Dean’s not slow to take a hint, and he backs off to give him some space.

”If you could for just one moment feel how desperately curious I am. It’s quite frustrating, not knowing anything about you.” 

Castiel wants to say that it’s kind of frustrating to not be able to speak, but he can’t even say _that_. Dean senses his discomfort, and pats his knee carefully. 

”How about we put on a film, huh? I’m really crappy at this whole ’talk about your feelings’-bullshit, but I know that there’s nothing a bit of Hollywood crap doesn’t make better. Jurassic park?” 

Castiel nods, because he doesn’t have an opinion on whether Jurassic park is a suitable movie for their current situation, and burrows deeper into the couch as Dean goes to put on the film. 

_I want to get to know you,_ he’d said. But Castiel isn’t the kind of person you want to get to know. 

Exchangeable. That’s how he feels. Like a waste of space, a soul inside a vessel that someone else should inhabit instead of him because honestly he is worthless at this. Worthless at communicating without a voice in a time when your voice is your most important tool . Black letters on a telephone-screen, that’s all he is. 

Exchangeable. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So poor Castiel's got it a bit tough in this chapter.. Thank you for reading and commenting and kudo-ing as always xx


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Yaay! My mind is already like five chapters away, so I apologize if the plot isn't very exciting... But bear with me, you're up for a treat in the next one! As always, thank you so much for reading xx

When the movie had ended and there really was no reason for Cas to stay (except for Dean to bask in his presence), Dean followed him to the door and helped him put on his trench coat. He wanted him to stay the night, but he didn’t know if the suggestion would come out wrong. 

So now he sits alone on the couch, a glass of whisky in his hands and some crappy reality-tv-show turned on. 

He wonders what he did wrong. What he said to make Cas so upset, when the night was going so well. 

They at least exchanged numbers, Cas promising to text him. But there was something off in his eyes. Some inexplicable sadness that made Dean want to peppers him with kisses and do all of that romantic, crappy shit that happened in teenage romantic comedies. 

Dean wonders, not for the first time, what it would be like to be mute. To not be able to shout Sam’s name, or make Cas blush as he flirts with him.

Good god, he’s so screwed it’s not even funny. 

Ellen and Bobby are gentle with him, because during the next few days they realize that something’s wrong. Unfortunately, when Jo comes into the garage and smacks his leg with her walking stick, they are both on lunch break and he has to fend her off on his own. 

”I have to hear from Charlie that you went on a hot date? What the hell?” she exclaims, smacking him again.

”OW! Cut it out!” Dean barks as the stick hits him again and he knows he’s going to have a bruise. ”It was just dinner, we had some burgers and then he went home and I went home. No biggie.” 

”BUT he was gorgeous, if Charlie’s gayness and constant interaction with me hasn’t damaged her eyesight.”

”Yes, he was gorgeous, alright? Now stop hitting me!” Dean hisses and nearly pulls the stick from Jo’s hands. She may be blind, but Dean would never dream of treating her like she was made of glass because of it. Besides, growing up together, she’s made it perfectly clear that she’s the tougher of the two of them. 

”Well, aren’t you going to call him? When was this magnificent date at BL’s?” 

”Actually, we met last Saturday as well,” Dean admits sheepishly, watching Jo’s eyebrows rise behind her sunglasses. 

”A _second_ date? And you still haven’t called him?” Dean has to laugh at that, because oh, how he would love to be able to call Cas. 

”He’s mute, Jo. Stop suggesting that I call him.” 

”Wow, that sucks,” she breathes, actually taking a beat at the revelation before continuing, ”But you know what, I couldn’t care less if he didn’t have any ears. Dean Winchester, you deserve to go on a third date with a handsome guy who’s normal enough to even go on a second date without trying to fuck you.” Dean shies away from her words, because the painful memories that they bring out are too much for him right now. He just wants to get back to changing the motor oil on the old VW beetle he’s working on at the moment, and not have to relive all of those first and second dates that made him drive back home with tears in his eyes. 

Jo’s rough, but she’s not an idiot. She senses Dean’s discomfort and reaches for him blindly, smiling when he takes her hand. 

”Don’t you dare drop him because of what those assholes did, you hear me? You are better than this.” 

”Yeah, alright, just stop terrorizing me about it. I’ll think about it-”

”The hell you will, you’re going to send him a text right freaking now.” Dean actually smiles. She’s given him the confidence he needed, and he almost feels good about himself before he remembers Cas’ upset eyes and the lack of a goodbye-kiss, goodbye-hug, goodbye-anything, really. 

”Fuck, Jo, I messed up,” he mutters, his mood changing so quick that even Jo with her Matt Murdock-skills can’t quite keep up. 

”What now?” 

”I- I think I messed up.”

”What?” Jo insists, frustrated at his lack of a clear explanation.

”I tried to get him to talk about himself, because all he ever does is listen to me blab about, well, me, and I think it offended him? I don’t know, he sort of shut himself off after that.”

”Dean, do you want to know the worst thing about being blind?”

”Not being able to watch porn?”

”Ew, gross,” she laughs, hearing the joke in his voice. 

”What’s the worst thing about being blind?” Dean asks.

”It’s feeling like everyone else is living this wonderful life and you’re just there, on the edge of it, not quite able to share it with you. Like you’re a spectator to a show, and you’re missing the entire thing because you can’t get off the sidelines and into the game.” 

”Jo, you’re Sam is showing,” Dean teases, and is smacked with the stick again as punishment. But he sort of understands what she’s talking about.

”This mute guy that you’re talking about, he’s probably used to always listening to other people speak, people who don’t think twice about the fact that he can’t contribute to the conversation unless they all wait for him to say something in another way, by writing or however it is he’s dealing with it. He’s used to being on the sidelines, and you just told him to get his ass into the game without letting him warm up.” 

”I don’t think you’ve ever said so many words in one minute,” Dean scoffs as he takes in her rather understandable metaphor for how poor Cas must be feeling. Maybe he had been a little _too_ insistent on getting him to share his life story. Dean should know, he’s not one to open up to neither strangers or family. 

”So what should I do?” he asks, smiling as Jo actually managed an eye-roll. 

”Apologize. Tell him that you’ll wait for him until he’s ready. I don’t know, some sappy stuff that you seem to be so great at. Call Sam if you want relationship advice, he’s the expert after all.” 

 

Dean feels marginally better as he’s standing outside Cas’ door with a few wild flowers in his left hand, right hand knocking on the hard wood. When there’s no response, he looks around, realizing with a groan that because it’s an apartment complex, there’s a little monitor with names and buttons to each name to press. Dean’s eyes rake across it, until he finds ”A & C. Novak”, and presses the button. 

For a second he’s afraid that he’ll have to talk to Cas already, but he quickly discards that instinctive thought as a female voice is heard through the speaker.

”Hi, may I help you?”

”Um, hello,” Dean replies. ”I’m here to see Cas-Caste-el?” She laughs softly and corrects him.

”It’s Castiel. What do you want? He’s a bit busy at the moment.” Dean suddenly realizes that he doesn’t know if Cas has told his sister about him, but Anna’s response as he tells her his name says it all. There’s a short pause, followed by a loud clatter and a sigh. 

”Usually I wouldn’t act against my brother’s will, but I know he’s quite fond of you even if he refuses to admit it. We’re on the second floor, come on up,” she says, and the door buzzes open. Dean grumbles a bit when there’s no elevator, and settles for taking the stairs. He reaches the second floor and identifies which of the two doors belong to the Novak siblings. 

”Hello, Dean. Welcome,” Anna greets him, and he is let inside. The hallway is cramped and stuffed with coats and shoes, and Dean is just able to get his coat up on a hook, afraid that the entire wall is going to come down from the extra weight. Anna asks him to take his shoes off, which he does, and is then led through to the kitchen where Cas is standing, nearly giving Dean a heart attack by just being there. 

He’s elbow deep in a bowl, hands covered with what can only be dough for something chocolatey. If it wasn’t for the frown on his face and the way he seems to retreat into himself as Dean enters the room, he might have gone over and kissed him right there. Instead of a confrontation in the presence of his sister, Dean opts to break the ice.

”So, what are you guys doing?” he asks, ignoring Cas’ eye roll. 

”I’ve got a bake sale with my kids at the kindergarten, but since Castiel is a better cook than me, he volunteered to help.” 

Cas’ snort tells Dean that he hadn’t volunteered as much as been coerced into doing it, and he chuckles. ”So you’ve got kids?” 

”None of my own, unfortunately. But at work I’ve got 34 of them, so I suppose that’s quite enough.” Dean nods, approaching Cas to see his handiwork. 

”Do you help out with the bake sale too, Cas? S’gotta be difficult to sell anything when you can’t tell people what you’re selling.” Anna gasps at his words, but Dean spots the smile in Cas’ eyes as he dips his finger into the bowl to taste the dough.

”Castiel contributes enough by helping me bake-” 

”Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but I did ask Cas. Not you,” Dean interrupts, and Anna’s cheeks flush red. When he turns his eyes back to Cas’ his expression is unreadable. Dean follows his motions as he lifts his hands from the bowl and starts making shapes and signs with them, eliciting an eye roll from Anna that Dean decides must be something of a family trait. 

”I just remembered, we’ll need coconut for the chocolate balls as well. I’ll run to the store and get some.” She leaves the kitchen in a rush, leading Dean to believe that Cas had just asked her to give them some alone time. 

”Chocolate _balls_?” Dean smirks, and Cas lifts an eyebrow, questioning Dean’s childish sense of humor. The only thing Dean can think of is that he’s got to get the recipe for them and make some for Bobby.

Once the door has shut behind Anna, Cas drills his eyes into Dean’s, only giving him a break to flicker down to his lips that he licks nervously. 

”Cas, I’m so sorry I pushed you, I shouldn’t have been so insistent on getting you to talk, I won’t ever force you to do anything ever again-” 

He is interrupted by a kiss that tastes like chocolate and butter and _Cas_ , and it’s the most delicious thing Dean has ever experienced. 

”I guess that means that we’re okay?” Dean mumbles as Cas pulls away. The breathless laugh that escapes those plump, red lips is the only response that Dean needs. He leans in for another taste, because Cas is too wonderful to just admire from a distance. 

”You need any help with those balls?” Dean smirks, glancing down at the quite obvious bulge between Cas’ legs. Cas growls, he actually manages to fucking _growl_ , and bites down on Dean’s bottom lip, sucking it gently as he lets go. Dean can feel his own erection growing, and palms himself through his jeans. 

”Son of a bitch, I didn’t know you to be such a tease,” Dean complains, actually taking a step away from Cas to calm the fuck down. It would not be appropriate to jump the guy in his own kitchen.

”Come on, show me what to do. If your sister was to come back now, there’d be some explaining to do.” 

Cas snorts reluctantly, but nods towards the sink to his right, indicating that Dean should wash his hands first. He does as he’s told, and when he turns back to Cas he is handed a clump of dough, about the size of a golf ball. Cas takes a clump for himself, and starts rolling it gently in his hands to make it into a round ball. He then places it on a large plate, giving Dean a look that tells him to copy him. Dean follows the instructions, and when Cas’ expression asks him if he understands, he knocks once on the side of the bowl instead of using his voice to reply. The look of awe that Cas rewards him with tells him that it was appreciated. 

Anna returns a while later, and they change positions slightly so that she can reach the balls and roll them in coconut flakes. She and Dean could have spoken, but they refrain from it. Working so close to each other in silence is strangely comfortable, and Dean can feel himself relax. 

Watching Cas and Anna, Dean is struck by how well they communicate without words. A short series of hand signs here, a knock there, and together they put all the chocolate balls in a large plastic tupperware container that Anna then crams into the fridge. She turns to Dean with a smile, bringing her hand up to her chin before correcting herself. 

”Right, forgot that you don’t know sign language. Thank you for your help, Dean,” she says with a smile, and gets in between Dean and Cas to wash her hands. 

”So that’s what you two were doing behind my back? Sign language?” Dean laughs, and Cas shrugs in response. Anna takes a few steps back before explaining. 

”We’ve taken a few classes, well, _I’ve_ taken a few classes and Castiel has learned it all by watching youtube, it makes it easier to communicate. Castiel prefers listening rather than adding to a conversation, but when we both use sign language I guess he feels more comfortable.” Dean’s eyes are on Cas as Anna speaks, sensing that he’s actually quite uncomfortable now as she puts the words in his mouth. But he doesn’t comment on it. He’s done enough to upset Cas with trying to get him to speak for himself. 

”So this is ’thank you’?” Dean asks, copying Anna’s earlier movement by bringing his hand up, touching his chin with his index and middle finger.

”You’ve got a bit of-” Anna says as Dean lets his hand drop, stopping as Cas leans in and kisses his chin, his tongue swirling around to lick up what Dean assumes has to be dough, going by the state of his hands. 

”Never mind,” Anna breathes, and absently scratches her temple, clearly feeling like she should be anywhere but in the same room as the two of them right now. 

”Why don’t you guys clean up and go for a walk or something? I’ve still got some work to do before I can enjoy the weekend.” 

Cas gives Dean a questioning look, and he grins widely. 

A walk? With Cas? 

Sounds like the best damn thing he’s heard all day.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a short chapter, but hey, I don't want to torture Cas for too long. The next one will be longer x

Dean is infuriating, stubborn, grumpy, and teases Castiel to the degree where he wants to grab his chin and tell him to start behaving like the 26-year old man that he really is, but Castiel can’t get enough of him. 

The spend the entire weekend together, most of it at Dean’s apartment since he lives alone and no matter how much Castiel loves his sister he doesn’t want to have to share Dean with her. When Dean tells her that they are going to his apartment on Saturday morning, she actually looks quite relieved. 

Castiel does go home to sleep, though, because he’s not quite ready to explain to Dean why he wakes up not being able to breathe. 

The weekend ends at last, leaving them with memories of bad jokes and food fights and kissing until they run out of breath. Castiel carries the weekend with him to work, actually smiling as he meets Balthazar, dodging Gabriel’s questions of why he’s so happy all of a sudden. Nothing can bring him down, strengthened by the constant flow of texts from Dean. They are enough to keep his buzz going through the entire week, because he’s already looking forward to seeing Dean again on Friday afternoon. 

However, it’s still only Wednesday, and Castiel has been particularly unlucky today because it seems as though every customer going through the store comes up to him to ask questions. Castiel keeps his smile on, mostly because of the thought of seeing Dean in just two days. His phone buzzes and he looks around, pleased to see that he is alone in the dairy section for now. 

**Today is the slowest day, I had two cars to fix and they’re already done. Even Bobby’s restless.**

_I’m sorry to hear that, Dean. Perhaps I should take a drive with my car, accidentally crash into someone in an intersection._

**Dude, that would be so helpful.**

**But on second thought, please don’t. Your golden carriage’ll never forgive you.**

Castiel snorts, and quickly looks up from his phone to check that no one’s watching him. He glances down at his next text and nearly chokes as he gets what Dean is indicating. 

**I know what we could do to pass the time, though…**

He doesn’t reply straight away, because _how do you reply to a text like that_ , giving Dean time to continue. 

**I bet you could sneak away for a few minutes for a quickie in the parking lot.**

**I could drive baby there, there’s plenty of space in the back seat.**

_Dean, I am at work, and I will be working until my shift is over. You should get back to work as well._

**Are you telling me that you can’t picture us on that smooth, black leather? I’d get you to lie on your back, your head resting on your trench coat, pants pulled down to your knees and nothing but your boxers between us.**

Castiel just stares at the words, his fingers seemingly paralyzed because he can’t write a reply and Dean just keeps on going.

**I’d kiss you hard, pressing your head down on the seat and we’d have to break away to breathe. Then I’d kiss my way down your throat, suck a hickey so large that you’d have to wear a scarf to hide it. My lips would continue down your body, my hands holding your hips down as you tried to buck up. Then, finally, I would mouth you through the thin fabric of your underwear, pre-come ruining them. Agonizingly slowly I’d pull the boxers down with my teeth, and finally your cock would be in my mouth, hard, hot, and so gorgeous that I would swallow you down my throat.**

The text ends abruptly, and by now Castiel is achingly hard in his pants, his breathing a bit strained as he looks up from his phone. His hand shakes as he puts another pack of cheese on the shelf, and he nearly jumps as someone behind him clears their throat.

”Excuse me, could you help me? I don’t know the price of this,” a woman asks, and Castiel looks at the book in her hand. He unlocks his phone and holds it up for her to read the explanation of why he can’t answer her question and is prepared for her to start apologizing, but as he watches her cheeks go red her eyes flicker towards his crotch and the obvious bulge that has formed there, and he quickly snatches the phone back. 

Oh no.

No, no, no, no, no. Just no. 

He’d shown her his conversation with Dean, that ended with his cock in Dean’s mouth. 

Not good. 

As he quickly brings up the notes app to write an explanation, she just laughs nervously and backs away, pointing towards the cash registers. 

”I think I will try over there, instead. Just- uh, take care of that, maybe,” she stutters, and is gone. Castiel has never been so embarrassed in his life, and he marches towards the changing rooms where he locks himself into one of the bathrooms. 

_Traitor_ , he thinks at his cock that twitches slightly as he palms himself through his pants. He can’t go on working like this, and with a sigh he pulls his pants down. Just as he’s started stroking his hard length, his phone buzzes and he frowns at it as if it is the reason for his embarrassment, but then he sees Dean’s name on the screen and realizes that he’s calling. 

”So, what do you say, should I come over?” Dean’s voice teases, and Castiel just breathes into the phone. Dean can apparently read his mind now, because he knows just what Castiel needs. 

”Oh, you are so hard right now, aren’t you, Cas? Just from my texts, that is so hot. You can feel my lips around your cock, can’t you? My tongue as I drag it across your skin, teeth just barely grazing your head. I softly tug at your balls with my fingers, sucking at your perfect cock until you’re writhing underneath me and I just need to hum against it, the vibrations causing you to come so hard down my throat that-”

Castiel comes with a loud moan and his legs nearly buckle from the force of his orgasm. He manages to catch the most of his come with the tissue that he had pulled out with this purpose in mind, slowly milking himself as he calms down and returns to the land of the living. Dean has stopped talking, but as Castiel grunts at him he can practically hear the smile in his voice. 

”So, was it good? Good enough to try out for real next time?” Castiel rolls his eyes and starts wiping his cock clean, before tucking it back in his underwear. ”You just rolled your eyes at me, didn’t you?” Dean asks, and Castiel can’t help it: he laughs, breathlessly, but Dean hears it. 

Dean always hears him, because he always listens. 

”Well, that was fun,” Dean continues, and Castiel can just hear a second voice through the phone that’s calling Dean’s name. ”Bobby’s yelling at me to get my ass back to work, gotta go. But I’ll see you on Friday? My place?” Castiel clicks his tongue once. ”Good. I-I’M COMING, BOBBY, JUST GIVE ME ONE GODDAMN SECOND!” Dean yells suddenly, and Castiel has to hold his phone a few inches from his ear to spare his hearing. 

”Sorry, Bobby’s not the most patient guy. See you on Friday, I’ll be home by six thirty, so after that you’re welcome.” Castiel clicks his tongue again, and then the call is ended by Dean.

Balthazar just laughs at him as he walks past the cash registers on his way to the dairy section. 

”I just had a customer ask me who the guy working by the cheese is and if he is okay. When I asked her why something would be wrong, she started blushing - _blushing_ , Cassie - and stuttered out something that had me thinking that you were getting a hard-on from touching all that cheese. Am I right?” Castiel just snorts at him and makes the ’ok’-sign, hoping that his friend will drop the subject and let him get back to work. 

”I want details, Cassie. Talk at lunch?” he asks, and Castiel agrees because what else is there to do? Besides, Balthazar will probably have forgotten about it by the time lunch rolls around. 

 

Anna senses his discomfort as he comes home, but she’s having some friends over and he tells her that he’s alright. Balthazar had _not_ forgotten to ask him about the erection in the dairy section, leading to him reading out Castiel’s words about Dean’s texts. And while Balthazar was a good friend and loyal to Castiel, he did not understand why Castiel didn’t want Inias and Michael to hear the entire story. 

Castiel grabs a plate with some of the pizza that Anna’s made, and retreats into his room. He watches tv for a while, and he doesn’t want to fall asleep, but he’s too tired to keep his eyes open and unconsciousness wraps him up in its peaceful blanket. 

 

”Castiel, please, you have to wake up,” Anna’s voice reaches him and he forces his eyes open. He’s shaking, and he doesn’t understand why his lungs are aching as if he was just punched in the chest, but then he sees the inhalator in Anna’s hand and he grabs it before he realizes that he’s not breathing. A deep, gasping breath later and his throat opens up, allowing the pain to seep away into the night air. 

He signs ’I’m sorry’ with his hands, but Anna grabs them and shakes her head. 

”Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault.” He wants to argue, because she’s so wrong to say that it’s not his fault when everything is his fault. He shouldn’t have been playing in the bathtub. He should be living on his own, so Anna could live a normal life. He should have died before they reached the hospital. He should have dug deeper, cut off more veins, he should have been strong enough to take his life. 

He shouldn’t be alive. 

Anna sees through his silent face and wraps him up in her arms, holding onto him so hard that it almost hurts but he doesn’t mind. 

”It’s not your fault, Castiel. Never go down that path again, please. Please don’t leave me,” she mumbles, and presses a kiss to the top of his head. His fingers wrap around his biceps, feeling the uneven skin there and wondering if he could do it again. 

 

Dean texts him and tells him to let himself in when he arrives because he might be in the shower, which sends all sorts of inappropriate thoughts through Castiel’s mind. He still knocks on the door just to check if Dean will answer it, but after standing outside for so long that he starts to feel a bit foolish he goes inside. 

The place smells of a home-cooked meal and a smile tugs at Castiel’s lips as he hangs his trench coat on the empty hook on the wall. He likes to imagine that Dean moved his own coats around to make room for Castiel’s. 

Unsure of what to do, he sits on the couch in the living room, picking up the car magazine from the table. Just as he’s flipping through it, he can hear a voice travel through the apartment. It’s Dean’s voice, and he’s singing a soft tune that sends goosebumps along Castiel’s skin. 

**When you smile I see stars in the sky**

**When you smile I see sunrise**

**And I know you’ve been thinking of me**

**And I know how you want it to be**

Castiel stands up without knowing why, and follows the sound of the voice to the bathroom. The door is not all the way closed, and Castiel eases it open, only feeling slightly weird as he adoringly looks at Dean through the shower curtain as he sings and washes his beautiful body. Before Dean can notice him, he backs out of the bathroom and returns to the couch, the smile never leaving his face. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all like it, thanks for reading xx

When Dean emerges from the bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped low around his waist, he spots Cas on the couch with an almost feral grin on his face. 

”Hey there, I didn’t hear you come in,” he greets, and revels in the feeling of Cas’ eyes roaming over his naked torso. He takes a short step towards the bedroom, hoping that Cas can read the question on his face. 

When the blue eyes and dark hair all but tackle him into the room, he knows that not all questions need to be asked out loud. 

Cas’ hands are worshipping his skin, burning hot as they leave a trail of want behind. Dean finds his lips and he never wants to lose them again, wants to drown in those blue eyes and Cas’ lips licking into his mouth. He moans embarrassingly loudly, and reaches for the buttons on Cas’ shirt to get him _closer_ , craving skin against skin contact. Cas sort of tenses when he tries to pull the shirt off, and he decides that it can stay on because now he can press his damp chest against Cas’ and press their bodies flush together. 

Cas surges towards him and with a push he’s on his back on the bed, looking up through his eyelashes as Cas slowly unbuttons his pants, watching Dean the entire time. The bulge in Cas’ pants is agonizingly tempting, and Dean thinks back to how hard he had been after making Cas come over the phone. He wonders what it will be like to feel his cock in his hands, watch his expression as he comes. The thought alone makes his cock twitch, and thetowel around his waist is obviously tented. 

”Come here,” he growls, and Cas all but crushes him as he throws himself on the bed. They settle for kissing for a while, before Dean’s hands travel down Cas’ chest and the feeling of Cas’ hard cock through his underwear is enough for his own cock to perk up and start leaking pre-come. He bites Cas’ lips in his mouth, enticing a frustrated growl that has him smiling. Slowly he slips his fingers into Cas’ boxers and wraps his hand around Cas’ cock, making his breath hitch in his throat. 

”You want to feel me suck you off for real this time?” he mumbles, and Cas replies by twisting them around so Dean is on top of him, towel slipping from his waist. Cas rips it off all the way and immediately grabs his cock, stroking and tugging at it and Dean straightens up, his hands on Cas’ chest to keep him from toppling over. 

”Oh, that feels so good to have you touching me, I’ve been thinking about your hands on me for so long,” he rambles, and is rewarded by another soft tug that has his hips grinding down against Cas’ crotch. He remembers promising a blowjob, and leans in for another kiss, making Cas momentarily forget about jerking him off. He nips at his earlobes, sucking a mark behind his ear that has Cas stuttering out a breath. 

”Just let me know if you want me to stop. Two for no, right?” Dean whispers into his ear, and the single knock on the wall gives him the courage to continue. He grazes Cas’ sharp jaw, lets his lips travel down his throat and suck at his collarbones, before continuing to a nipple that he laves with his tongue, then biting it gently. If the massive, rock-hard cock against his stomach is anything to go by, Cas is enjoying this. 

He changes to the other nipple, laughing as Cas whimpers and tries to push his head down to his waiting cock. 

”On my way,” he obeys, and runs his tongue down Cas’ happy trail, where he ends up mouthing his cock through his boxers. When Cas starts wriggling his hips in anticipation, he abruptly pulls the fabric down and gasps as Cas’s aching length bobs free. 

”You look so gorgeous, all hard for me,” he breathes, and makes a trail of kisses from Cas’ hip until he finally opens up his mouth and lets Cas inside. Hands immediately dig into his hair and pull at it, and he hums approvingly against Cas’ cock. 

His hard, flushed, delicious cock that’s already leaking into his mouth. He starts moving up and down the shaft, twisting his tongue around it and applying pressure to the head every time he reaches it with his lips. Cas is practically shaking underneath him, and he pops off to look into his hooded eyes. 

”It’s okay, Cas, you can fuck into my mouth,” he rasps, and he can actually see the way Cas’ pupils dilate. With a grin he swallows Cas down again, and makes his throat relax as Cas’ hips start bucking up into his mouth. He meets every thrust with a moan and hollows out his cheeks to increase the tightness around Cas’ cock. Two knocks on the wall make him stop and pull off, just as Cas gasps and come starts spurting out, painting Cas’ stomach and shirt in white ropes. Dean frowns at him and milks the last of the come out with his hand, feeling Cas shudder from his touch. 

”You could have come in my mouth, Cas. I don’t mind the taste, and I bet you’re just-” he pauses and leans forward to lick some of the come off Cas’ skin, licking his lips as Cas just watches him with awe. ”-delicious,” he smirks, climbing up to kiss him. He can feel Cas’ hands travel down his body to reciprocate, but he stops him with an embarrassed laugh. 

”Too late for that, buddy.” They both gaze down at Dean’s spent cock that hangs sluggishly between his legs, and the wet spot of come on the sheets. 

”Made me come just from letting me suck you off,” Dean growls and Cas cranes his neck up to smash their lips together. They explore each other’s mouths, reveling at the feeling of skin against skin, but soon the come on Cas’ stomach is making them both uncomfortable and Dean pulls away. 

”Shower,” he murmurs, and Cas nods ruefully. Dean grabs his hand and pulls him into the bathroom, where he gets his second shower of the day. 

 

After they’ve dried each other off, Cas looking gorgeous in Dean’s sweatpants and t-shirt, they head into the kitchen where a pasta carbonara is waiting for them. Dean remembered Cas’ expression the last time he made him pasta, and hopes that he will enjoy this meal as well. 

They eat on the couch in front of the tv, and when Cas has refilled his plate for the third time Dean knows that the food was appreciated. 

”So, how much trouble did you get in today? I’m sorry if I got a bit carried away,” Dean smirks, still hearing Cas’ strained breaths through the phone. He watches the man’s frowning face as he pulls out his phone and starts typing, adoring the way the screen lights up his face like it’s glowing from the inside. When the phone is handed to him, he has to tear his eyes away from blue eyes and lips still swollen from the rough kisses. 

What Cas has written makes him laugh until tears are streaming down his cheeks, and it’s made even better when Cas tries to remain serious like he hadn’t shown a customer his dirty texts and then jerked off in the bathroom. Cas snatches the phone back and rolls his eyes, and Dean just wants to kiss him. 

_You are frustrating_ , Cas writes, and Dean grabs both of their plates so that he can wrestle him down on the couch without breaking anything. Cas is pliant underneath him, and lets himself be guided into a vertical position, erection already pushing against Dean’s leg that’s slotted between Cas’ thighs. They kiss hungrily, desperate, wanting to melt into one instead of being two. When Cas lightly pushes him away to let them catch their breaths, Dean lets his forehead rest against Cas’, breathing heavily. 

”Bedroom?” he asks, and before he knows it Cas is pulling him across the apartment. 

Dean is the one on his back this time around, and he doesn’t mind it one bit when Cas is tearing him apart with kisses and bites and fingers that should be illegal. Their clothes are tossed around the room, lessening the space between them, and when Cas starts kissing his way down Dean’s body, the anticipation is enough to get him to let out a deep moan. 

As Cas wraps his lips around his cock his entire mind is focused on not bucking up into that hot mouth. Cas sucks him down and actually _swallows_ , his teeth grazing Dean’s rock-hard shaft and he fists the sheets from pure pleasure. 

”Cas-oh my god don’t stop-Cas are you sure you-uh,” he stutters, breaths coming out in short bursts. He’s achingly hard, and because of the more primal parts in his brain it takes a moment for him to register the hand that’s traveling between his legs, past his balls, only pausing slightly to press against his perineum, before reaching his fluttering hole and slowly massaging the rim. Dean tenses, somehow forgetting about the wetness around his cock, and can only feel the fingers pushing in, the blood sipping from his hole, the bruises on his back and the hand wrapped around his neck-

”Please stop,” he quivers, his cheeks heating up as Cas slowly parts from his cock with a popping sound. He closes his eyes because he can’t face the question in Cas’ eyes, can’t look at his gorgeous lips when he’s feeling like this. His heart threatens to burst through his chest, and there has to be a hole ripped through his stomach because he is empty inside. 

The way things just abruptly stopped has him feeling nauseous inside, but now all he feels like doing is sleep. He wishes he could laugh it away, give Cas an explanation that will entice an eye-roll and a smirk, and have him keep going. But he can’t. He doesn’t even touch himself there anymore, and he wouldn’t dream of letting someone else do it even if that someone else is Cas, beautiful, kind Cas that would never hurt him. 

A hand squeezes his, causing Dean to notice that their fingers are intertwined. He opens his eyes and sees the worry in those ocean blue eyes that make his chest ache in all the right ways. 

_Are you okay?_

Dean smiles and squeezes the hand once. No, he’s not even remotely okay, but this is Cas and he is not the cause of it. It’s okay to lie in a bed with Cas, because the man is everything Dean has ever wanted. 

”I will be, just give me a minute,” Dean promises, and cards his free hand through Cas’ hair. 

He finds his breath again eventually, but his erection is long gone and so is his will do to anything beyond being wrapped in Cas’ embrace. Cas’ head still rests on his thigh, and he wonders if he will be okay with Dean blowing him and nothing more. A soft squeeze of his hand is enough for Cas to meet his eyes again, still tinged with worry. 

”Is it okay if we just…don’t do this? I can help you get off, but I’m not up for it again,” he says, trying to get Cas to laugh at his lame pun. 

Still not entirely comfortable with what Cas might want from him, he watches as he gets up and locates Dean’s underwear on the floor, pulling them on for him despite Dean’s attempts to do it himself. He then finds his own and puts them on before climbing back into bed and burrowing against Dean’s chest. Dean hesitantly lays an arm around the wide shoulders, feeling a kiss pressed to his skin. 

They lay in silence for a long while, listening to each other’s breaths, and the comforting weight of Cas’ head on his chest is enough for Dean’s eyes to slowly shut. 

”Thank you,” he murmurs, half-smiling at the squeeze of his fingers and somewhere along the way he falls asleep. 

 

Dean is too tired to understand what’s going on. It’s the middle of the goddamn night, and the shape that is Cas is moving next to him. 

”Cas, go back to sleep,” Dean mutters, flexing his fingers where they are all tingly from him sleeping with his head on his hand. 

A choked sound and a hand on his shoulder makes him shoot up in bed, all traces of sleep vanished in a split second. He turns on the light to find Cas’ eyes wide open, panic screaming at him as he is clutching at his bare throat.

”What’s wrong? Shit, Cas, what do I do? Call 911?” he rants, on his knees in bed and trying not to let Cas’ fear seep into his body, but it’s damn near impossible. ”911?” he repeats, and Cas weakly knocks twice on the wall behind him. 

One for yes, two for no. 

”What do you need?” Dean begs, ignoring the sob that’s breaking through. Cas mouths something, a single word, but Dean can’t quite understand it. 

”Phone? You need your phone?” Two frantic knocks on the wall, and Cas tries again. Dean tries to figure it out on his own, what he could to do help Cas and stop him from choking to death in his bed. 

”Coat? Your trench coat?” Dean exclaims, and nearly collapses as Cas knocks once on the wall. He bolts through the apartment, and rips Cas’ ridiculous, gorgeous trench coat from the hook by the front door before running back. His heart is in his throat and he can feel his pulse hammering through his brain, but he has to keep going. 

Back in the bedroom, Cas has managed to shift his position with his hands clamped on the top of the headboard, lungs hacking and his entire body convulses as he tries to draw a breath. His hand is spasming like crazy when he pats his left hip, and Dean understands. He searches through the pockets on the left side, pulling out object after object until his fingers wrap around what he recognizes as an inhalator. Cas’ eyes tell him that it’s what he needs, and he helps put it against his lips, watching as Cas somehow gathers enough strength to inhale. 

The effect is immediate. Cas starts coughing, draws a breath, and coughs some more. He opens his mouth and puts two fingers inside, signaling that he’s going to be sick, and Dean flings Cas’ sweaty arm across his shoulders and all but carries him to the bathroom, where he throws up the remnants of last night’s dinner. 

He coughs and hacks and dry heaves, and Dean doesn’t know what to do except stroke his hair and massage his back. 

”You’re okay,” he soothes, feeling a ripple of what can only be pain pass through the muscles on Cas’ back. ”I’ve got you, Cas, don’t you worry. You’re okay.” He continues talking in a low voice, and when Cas finally straightens up his expression is enough to make tears form in Dean’s eyes.

”I’m gonna get you some water, okay? I’ll be right back,” he says, but Cas grabs his arm and Dean doesn’t have the heart to pull away. Instead, he wraps the cold, wet and shaking Cas in his arms and slowly rocks him as he sobs into his chest. 

”What a night we’ve had, huh?” Dean mumbles into Cas’ hair once the sobs and hiccups have faded into silence. Cas’ fingers are cold against his skin, softly rubbing against his chest. 

”Do you want to go back to bed?” Dean asks, and can just feel the slightest squeeze of his flesh. It makes him wonder if Cas’ secretly doesn’t want him to notice it, but his back is starting to ache and his butt hurts from sitting on the hard floor for so long. 

”Come on, I’ll help you get up.” Cas’ legs are shaking all the way back to the bed, his hand clutched tight around Dean’s arm as he pulls away.

”I’m just going to get you something to drink. You’re not going to want to sleep with the taste of vomit in your mouth.” Cas reluctantly lets go of him, and Dean makes sure to hurry back to him. 

Cas gratefully empties the glass of orange juice that Dean gives him, and reaches for his trench coat that still lies on the bed. He pulls out a little plastic container that looks like something from House MD and pours two pills into his hand that he swallows dry. Dean watches him rearrange his body into a comfortable position and lift his arms slightly to allow Dean to crawl up against him. 

He wants to, desperately, but he can’t quite yet. 

”What the hell just happened? You can’t just do something like- like that, whatever that was - and expect me to fall back asleep.” 

Cas frowns at him, his eyes not angry as much as tired, and once again gestures at Dean to lie down. 

”Is this- does this have something to do with you being mute? I must admit that I did some research, but you know what it’s like when you google a symptom, you end up thinking that you have cancer in your ass or something.” 

Cas rolls his eyes, making Dean’s chest constrict because it’s such a familiar gesture and he feels that maybe, maybe Cas is okay. 

But Dean doesn’t budge, and with the mother of all exasperated sighs Cas reaches for his phone, decides against it, and instead grabs a pad of blue post-its from one of the pockets of his coat. Dean offers him a pen, and sits back against the headboard as Cas starts writing. 

A post-it can only contain so many letters, and Cas rips them off as he writes, tossing them in Dean’s general direction and letting him piece them together as he reads Cas’ looping handwriting. 

 

_When I was nine years old, I slipped and fell in our bathtub. I do not remember why I was standing up, but before my mother died she used to tell me about how I liked to play in the water. I hit my head on the edge of the tub and was knocked unconscious, ending up face-down in the water. When my father found me_ ~~_I had been_ ~~ _they didn’t know for how long I had been there, and I was not breathing. I was taken to a hospital where they were able to resuscitate me, but the damage done to my brain due to the lack of oxygen and the force of the blow caused a condition called anarthia. There is nothing wrong with my vocal cords, but the nerves that connect them to my brain are damaged beyond repair, and therefore I will never be able to speak again. When I am asleep, the automatic parts of my brain are activated, and unfortunately there is a hitch that makes my throat constrict and my diaphragm stops moving._

 

Dean reads, and re-reads some of the words twice, because he can’t believe the cruelty of the world that he lives in. A slip, an accident as a child, and Cas is cursed with muteness for the rest of his life? In what universe is that okay?

Cas nudges at him and hands him another post-it. 

 

_I could have died, but I didn’t. I could have become completely paralyzed, but all I lost was my voice. I was lucky._

 

”But you don’t believe that, do you?” Dean asks, but it’s not really a question as much as it is the truth. 

 

_It’s alright, Dean. It’s been more than twenty years, I am used to it by now._

 

”So it’s like this for you every night? Fuck, how do you get any sleep at all?” Cas shrugs, and Dean can sense that the man doesn’t get a lot of sleep. ”Have you been to a doctor? Someone’s got to be able to help you.” Cas just shakes his head, and the broken look in his eyes is begging Dean to drop the subject. He can sense that Cas has already tried everything, and has accepted that this is his life now.

”Do you want to go back to sleep?” he asks, and can tell by the sad smile that Cas won’t be sleeping any more tonight. ”What if I hold you, would that make you feel better?” Cas doesn’t want to ask it from him, Dean can tell, but he guides him so he’s on his side, back towards Dean, and then snuggles closer until their bodies are pressed flush together from Dean’s chest against Cas’ back to their intwined legs and feet. Dean presses a soft kiss against Cas’ neck and wraps his arm around his torso, letting his hand rest against Cas’ chest. 

The blissful sighs are enough to send Dean back asleep, and he doesn’t wake up until the sun is blinding him through the window and the bed is empty. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are over-appreciated and I love you for them. Here's some well deserved smut as a reward xx

”Hey, I thought you’d left,” Dean’s raspy morning voice greets him and Castiel shakes his head from where he’s sitting on the couch, blanket wrapped around him and knees pulled up against his chest. He angrily wipes a hand underneath his eyes, because he doesn’t want Dean to know that he’s been crying again, but if the other man notices it he doesn’t say anything. 

”You want some pancakes? You know what, I don’t care if you want pancakes, we’re having pancakes.” Castiel lets out a laugh but stays in the couch, apparently so lost in his mind that he forgets all concepts of time because suddenly a stack of pancakes is placed on the table in front of him and Dean brings syrup, blueberries, orange juice and coffee, and Castiel can’t remember the last time someone took care of him like this. 

”Do you drink coffee?” Dean asks as he pours himself a cup, and Castiel knocks once. ”Black?” One more knock, and soon he is handed a cup that smells like morning and he sniffs it in. He sips the coffee and smiles at it wakes him up a little, suddenly remembering last night and storm of emotions that had him dumping the sob-story of how he lost his voice to Dean. Why the man hasn’t kicked him out or turned pity-eyed yet, Castiel doesn’t know. He desperately wants them both to pretend like last night never happened, a wish that Dean apparently does not share. 

”So, last night…” he says into the silence, his voice trailing off as he takes an enormous bite of the pancake that’s been speared by his fork. While chewing, Dean watches Castiel with an unreadable expression that has him squirming where he sits. 

_What?_ he wants to ask him, but he can’t and it makes his chest constrict. 

”I’m really sorry about what happened to you, Cas. And I’m sorry that you have a hard time sleeping. But if you think that it’s going to scare me away, you really don’t know me.”

Cas’ breath catches in his throat because Dean _understands,_ he reads him well enough after no more than a few weeks together to know that him raising an eyebrow in a certain way means that he has a question. And now, he can tell that Castiel is upset by something and is quick to inch closer to him so that their thighs brush together. 

”I’m here, Cas. I’m not going anywhere.”

And, because he is Dean frickin’ Winchester as he likes to remind him, he cracks a joke to drain the tension between them.

”After all, how could I say no to those delicious cock-sucking lips of yours? Who knew you’d be so good at making me come,” he groans, the joke turning more heated as Castiel bites his bottom lip just to be a tease. He leans into Dean’s space to kiss him, but before it can turn into something a little less innocent, Dean pulls away. 

”Hell no, not before I finish my breakfast,” he mutters, pushing Castiel away with a boyish smile.

They eat, comfortable in each other’s presence, and Dean goes as far as to feed Castiel a bite of his pancake mixed with blueberries and cream cheese that has Castiel frowning until he’s tasting it. His eyes roll back into his head as he hums appreciatively, and Dean chuckles softly at him. 

The next time he speaks, it is as if he’s just remembered something. He opens his mouth to draw a preparing breath, then actually brings his hand up to rub the back of his neck before he gains the courage to just spit the words out already. 

”My brother, Sammy, is coming over with his girlfriend for spring break. I’d really like you to meet him,” he says, and Castiel is stunned. Sure, Dean has already met Anna, but that was a coincidence and not really a formal introduction to his family. And judging by the way Dean speaks of Sam, his brother is the most important person in his life. Castiel can’t believe that Dean thinks so highly of him that he wants them to meet. 

Finding it difficult to put any of his thoughts into words, Castiel simply nods with a lift of his shoulders. Dean’s reaction is nothing but happy and relieved. 

”Awesome,” he breathes, and pecks the corner of Castiel’s mouth before he even realized that the space between them had grown smaller. ”You’re going to love him, don’t you worry. He’s kind of a geek, but a nice one, and he’s obsessed with history and books and, well, everything. Sam’s the brains, I’m the brawn,” he jokes but Castiel sees the truth through his smile. He sees that Dean is more than just the ’brawn’, he’s clever, intelligent and extremely kind. Castiel decides that his new full time occupation is to make Dean realize that as well.

Feeling like Dean deserves some form of a reply other than a nod, Castiel types a few quick words down in his phone. 

_I can’t wait to meet your brother and his girlfriend - what is her name? I think you’ve told me once but I can’t seem to remember. How old is Sam?_

”Her name’s Jessica, super sweet. It’ll actually be my first time meeting her too, last time I saw Sammy was for christmas, and she spent the holidays with her own family. And Sam’s 22, can you believe it? The kid’s all grown up.”

Castiel smiles as Dean talks, because how can he not? The adoring tone his voice gains while speaking of his brother is one Castiel hopes can one day be used for him, as well.

_So, when am I meeting them? Besides work I’m free all week._

Dean tilts his head, mirroring Castiel’s own movements, and seems to try to figure out a time that would suit him. 

”How about Tuesday? They’re arriving tomorrow night, so that’ll give them at least some time to shrug off the jet lag.”

Castiel smiles and squeezes his hand once, and before he knows what’s going on Dean’s kissing him. He returns the kiss soon enough, tongues sliding against each other and lips colliding, and Castiel never wants to stop. He tries to express as much with a grunt as Dean pulls away just an inch. 

”I’m sorry, you’re just so damn beautiful,” he breathes, and closes his eyes. ”Can I-” he tries, but cuts himself off by biting his bottom lip. Castiel releases it with a kiss and blue eyes meet green. At a loss of words, Dean slams their lips together again and lets his hands travel down Castiel’s body, making him suck in a breath through his teeth as his fingers ghost over Castiel’s already half-heard cock. 

Dean doesn’t need to ask, because Castiel already knows where this is headed - right now it’s headed towards the bedroom. 

Lips never parting, they stumble across the living room and Dean slams the bedroom door shut after them, already knocking them down on the bed. He laughs as Castiel tries to pull their shirts off while kissing, and straightens up, straddling Castiel’s hips and gorgeous, swollen lips cranked up in a smile. Castiel is wearing nothing but a t-shirt and boxers, so he tugs at Dean’s sweatpants to even out the amount of clothes they are both wearing. 

Dean complies by grabbing the neck of his t-shirt to reveal his stunning torso, then sits back on his ass to remove both sweatpants and boxers in one swift movement, flushed cock bobbing free. 

Castiel van feel his cheeks turn red as Dean helps him get his shirt off too, and in between the kisses he slowly works his hands down his body, fingers slipping in between boxers and skin and Castiel aches to be touched. He concentrates on keeping his breathing steady as Dean’s mouth leaves his, kissing his way down his body until his teeth are tugging at his boxers, pulling them down all the way to his knees. Fingers start kneading his thighs, and it’s so gentle, so unlike the hurried blowjobs from last night that Castiel leans back into the pillows underneath his head, reveling in every touch. 

His boxers are removed all the way and tossed to the floor, and as Dean takes him in his mouth he cries out silently. Working him up and down in a steady rhythm, Castiel suddenly wants more, more than just being sucked off (even though that’s pretty awesome too), and he knocks twice on the wall, getting an immediate response from Dean. 

”Are you okay? We don’t have to, if you don’t want-” Castiel sees the moment Dean understands, because his eyes widen and he nervously licks his lips. 

”Are you clean? I mean, I’ve already sucked you off so I guess it’s too little too late, but I might as well ask. I got tested after the last time I - you know - because it was this girl I picked up at a bar and I didn’t really know her, but we used condoms so it was safe, but yeah. I’m clean,” he finishes and Castiel has to laugh as Dean realizes the sheer amount of words he just said out loud. He points at his own chest, then makes the ’ok’ sign, and Dean releases a relieved breath. 

”Good. Great. I mean, not that I thought you’re the kind of guy who sleeps around, but you never know, and-” 

The most effective way to get Dean Winchester to shut up is by kissing him, is Castiel’s conclusion as their lips lock and they close their eyes and for a moment everything is perfect. 

The perfection turns more heated as Dean smoothly wraps his fingers around Castiel’s cock, the friction almost unbearable as he slowly jerks his hand back and forth, and Castiel accidentally bites down on his lip hard enough to entice a surprised moan. 

”Easy there, tiger,” he laughs, and reaches his arm to the bottom drawer of his bedside table. Castiel follows the movement and spots condoms and a few bottles of lube, smiling as Dean grabs the first one his fingers touch. They are not going to use a condom, and it sends bursts of pleasure through Castiel’s gut. Dean _trusts_ him. 

As the bottle of lube snaps open they both grin at the smell, Dean groaning as he reads the label. 

”Coconut, I knew I should have gotten rid of these. It’s gonna smell like a goddamn beach in here, hang on.” He tries to grab another bottle but Castiel stops him, enjoying the smell too much. 

”Ooh, someone is eager,” he teases, and laughs as Castiel rolls his eyes. He can’t help it, it’s his go-to expression whenever he is being teased and Dean teases him constantly. 

When Castiel reaches up to kiss the smirk off Dean’s lips, he feels a change in the other man’s mood and looks at him questioningly. 

”D’you want top or bottom?” he asks uncertainly, and Castiel remembers the way Dean had retreated into himself as Castiel had fingered him, sensing the same tenseness in his body now. He holds up two fingers, hoping Dean understands and then feeling silly for even considering that he might not understand. 

”So it’s alright that I top?” Dean continues, and Castiel replies by grabbing his ass to grind his cock down against his hips. Dean finally relaxes, and melts into Castiel with kisses. 

Castiel is suddenly a bit nervous, because it’s been a _long_ time since he bottomed for anyone and he’s worried that it’s going to hurt. However, when Dean pretty much drowns his fingers in lube before gently starting to massage his rim, every thought of pain is replaced with pure pleasure and he knows that he’s in good hands. 

Dean takes his time, fingers circling his hole until Castiel is tossing his head back and forth, needing him inside. He is rewarded when a single finger slowly pushes inside, pausing at each knuckle to give him plenty of time to adjust. After crooking his finger and just teasing at Castiel’s prostate Dean adds a second finger, and it’s slick and smooth and feels so good, and Castiel cants his hips to get him further inside, because he needs _more_. With a moan Dean gets a third finger in too, and slowly, so slowly starts fucking Castiel with them until he is a whimpering, begging mess. 

”How do you want to do this?” Dean murmurs in his ear, fingers so deep that Castiel has to push out a breath. He doesn’t know what he wants, he only wants _Dean_ , inside him _now_ , and before he knows what he’s doing he has flipped them around on the bed, Dean on his back beneath him looking up through thick eyelashes. Castiel grabs the lube and squirts some out on his hand, grabbing Dean’s untouched cock and giving it a few pumps, covering it in the coconut-goodness. As he lifts himself up over Dean’s hips the other man gets the message, and grabs his cock to help guide him down on it. 

A gasp escapes his mouth as the head of Dean’s cock nudges at his rim, because he is so big, and so ready for him and he can’t wait any longer. With a roll of his hips Castiel takes him in completely, barely feeling the burning stretch, only feeling completely filled up. He lowers his gaze to Dean, whose head is pressed down against the pillows and his mouth is wide open in an ’o’, teeth just showing behind his plump lips. Castiel leans down to kiss them, just for a taste, and Dean comes to life, bucking his hips up against Castiel and reaching even deeper. 

They start up a rhythm of Castiel grinding up and down on Dean’s cock, riding his thrusts hard and angling his hips so Dean hits his prostate every time he bottoms out. Dean’s calloused hand is around his free cock, creating just enough friction for him to feel his orgasm building, giving Dean no warning before come starts painting his stomach and chest, leaving white stripes on his skin. Using the little sense he has left, Castiel clenches around Dean’s cock and feels a shudder pass through the man as he comes, hands falling down limply from where they had been holding Castiel’s hips. 

Staying on top of Dean for a moment, Castiel takes the time to admire his expression as he comes down from his orgasm. The pure, open face is so different from the way Dean sometimes shuts himself off, hiding his emotions behind jokes and flirtations. This Dean is vulnerable, and pride blooms in Castiel’s chest as he realizes that Dean trusts him enough to show him this part of himself. 

And if Castiel is thinking of three words that are way to early to even consider applying to Dean, no one will ever know. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm spending way too much time writing this instead of doing something that does not involve staring at a computer screen... But screw it, here's another chapter where our dearest Sam is introduced!

Dean smiles as he spots a familiar face that sits at least a foot higher than everyone else coming through from the security check at the airport. He gives a wave and can’t help chuckling to himself as Sam’s face lights up, raising his hand to show that he’s seen him. It takes a few minutes for them to finally reach each other, but the waiting is worth it as Dean gets to wrap his arms around his little brother and feel his presence once again. God, three months was just too much time apart, even though Dean would never admit as much to his brother. 

”Good to see you, man,” Dean says as he parts, and only then does he notice the sling around his shoulder and the way his right hand is held against his torso. 

”What did you do, wrestle a bear?” he laughs, and before Sam can answer with more than an eye-roll another voice chimes in, one Dean has only heard over the telephone. 

”He wrestled one of our classmates actually, tiny asian guy called Kevin,” Jessica says, pulling two suitcases behind her and somehow carrying both a duffle bag and a backpack on top of that, but her smile is radiant and she focuses it on Dean. 

”Hey, Jess,” Dean greets, and she drops everything in her hands, letting it fall to the floor with a loud bang. 

”Dean,” she replies, and lifts her arms to let him close the distance between them and give her a tight hug. 

It may be the first time they truly meet, but they’ve spent hours on the phone without Sam’s knowledge, their shared love for the long-haired moose only one of the things they have in common. Jess is as much as a car-nerd as Dean, and he knows that she’s going to nearly faint when she gets to ride shotgun in the Impala. 

”Sammy, I thought you were more of a gentleman than to let your girl carry all your luggage,” Dean teases, and helps Jess pick up the suitcases from the floor. He takes Sam’s duffel bag as well, ignoring Sam’s excuses of how he ’isn’t supposed to carry heavy things, Dean’ while leading them out to the parking lot where his baby’s waiting. 

Jess lets out a squeal of delight and Sam just ends up beside the car, looking like a lost puppy when she opens the door to the front seat after dumping their luggage in the trunk. 

”Jess already called shotgun, Sammy. Man up and get in the back.”

”But-when did you-” he tries, but Jess silences him with a kiss that has Dean thinking about Cas and he’s smiling even wider when he hears Sam’s muttering as he gets in behind them. 

”That’s what happens when you fall asleep on the plane, leaving your girlfriend alone to make up plans with your brother. Better start giving her more attention, Sammy-boy,” Dean laughs, and starts up the engine. 

After he and Jess have gone through the basics of his car and discussed which year model is the best (Dean is loyal to the -67, but Jess is convinced that the -64 looks better upon which Dean pats the dashboard and silently whispers ’she doesn’t mean it baby’) they leave the topic of cars to let Sam in on the conversation as well. 

”So, tiny asian guy?” Dean asks, upon which Sam and Jess both exclaim:

”MASTER CHAU!” in sync, giggling like two teenagers. 

”I’m sorry, what?” Dean asks, baffled as Jess explains. 

”Since Kevin quite brutally dislocated Sam’s shoulder, despite being half his height, he only goes by ’Master Chau’ from now on. At least, we’re trying to convince him that it’s a good idea.”

”Man, he’s so embarrassed by the whole thing. Won’t stop apologizing even though it’s my fault,” Sam adds, and Dean shakes his head at the two of them.

”College,” he snorts, and they laugh in unison. 

”So, Dean. Any special someone that I’m going to meet?” Jess asks as their laughter dies out, and Dean squirms in his seat. He was hoping to avoid this question and just mention that they were going to have dinner with Cas, but now it seems as if he has to tell them. 

”Actually, yes,” he says ruefully, rubbing the back of his neck while keeping his eyes locked on the road. 

”Ooh, what’s her name?” Jess continues, and Dean can practically feel Sam’s eyes drilling into the back of his head. 

”It’s a guy.” He dares a look in the rearview mirror, and regrets it the moment he sees Sam’s flared nostrils and how his lips are pressed into a thin line. 

” _Dean_ ,” he breathes, and Dean feels the pain and worry through that single word. 

And Sam has every right in the world to worry, since he was the one who found Dean ripped at the seams after his previous relationships, it’s just that Dean wishes that he would trust him. That Sam would treat him like the big brother he actually is and trust that he’s past the abuse and sadism and has started to realize that maybe, just maybe he deserves something better. 

That maybe he actually deserves someone like Cas. 

Jess instantly picks up on the tension between the brothers and her eyes go back and forth like she’s watching a game of ping-pong. 

”What do you mean ’Dean’? He can date a guy if he wants to, no shame in that,” she says at last, and Sam looks a little flustered. 

”That’s not what I - look, the last time Dean had a stable relationship I didn’t hear from him for _weeks_ , until I flew out and had to drag his starved and abused body to the hospital.”

”Sam,” Dean warns, because he hates it every time this conversation starts up. He hates that he can still feel Gordon’s presence, Alastair’s power over him. 

”No, Dean, you know what? I think it’s time we talk about this for real. You nearly _died_ , so excuse me if I’m a bit worried when you’re suddenly with some guy that I’ve never heard a single word about. Do you have any idea what it would do to me if you died? You’re my brother, and I’m not going to lose you again.”

The silence hangs heavy in the car. Dean’s grip on the steering wheel is so tight that his knuckles are whitening, and he forces himself to ease up. Finally, Jess speaks up. 

”Dean, I’m sorry about what happened to you,” she whispers, and places her hand on his arm even as she’s turning back towards Sam. 

”And, Sam, I know that you’re worried about him, I do. But you have to let him live his life without watching over him like some worried mama-bear. Dean can take care of himself,” she says, squeezing his arm as she does and he wonders how she can read him so well to know that that was just what he needed. ”We’ll meet this guy, and you’ll be nice to him, and when you see that he isn’t planning on locking Dean up in his home we can all just forget that this conversation ever took place, alright?” 

As Sam nods solemnly and Jess finally leans back in her seat, Dean wishes for nothing more than to be locked in Cas’ apartment and spend every second of the rest of his life with him. Anything to escape the horrible silence between him and his brother. 

 

Sam relaxes as Dean brings them up to his apartment, and after a few beers and some of Jess’ tales about all the stupid things they’ve done when being drunk at school, Dean can almost forget about his brother’s worried look in the car. 

He’s going to meet Cas, and he’s going to like him. End of story. 

The night turns into morning, and as Dean is pouring up a cup of coffee for himself Sam emerges from the living room where he and Jess are sharing the foldable sofa-bed that usually works as a couch. He accepts the cup that Dean hands him and sits by the kitchen table, gazing out the window. As Dean joins him with a bowl of yoghurt he offers a weak smile.

”I’m sorry about yesterday,” he says, and Dean waves his apology off. 

”You’ve every right to be worried, Sammy. I’m should be the one to apologize for making you go through all that crap.” 

”It’s not that I don’t think that you can’t take care of yourself, it’s just - sometimes you’re too kind for your own good. You don’t realize that you’re in over your head until it’s too late.”

”Well I’m sure in over my head with this one,” Dean mutters silently into his cup and takes a sip, hoping that Sam didn’t hear him. 

He did, of course. 

”What’s that supposed to mean?”

”I like him, okay? I like him a lot, and it’s actually kind of scary.”

”But he hasn’t hurt you, right?”

”Cas? Oh, god no, he couldn’t hurt a fly. He’s far too gentle for that.” 

”Cas?” Sam smirks, and Dean resists the urge to throw something at his head. _Brothers_. 

”Yes, his name is Cas. Well, it’s a nickname actually, his real name is a bit of a mouthful.” Sam gives him a pointed look and he tries to remember how Anna had pronounced it. ”Casti-el,” he manages, and Sam frowns. 

”You’re right. Better stick with Cas.” 

”Yeah,” Dean chuckles, already feeling better about how Sam’s showing interest in the guy he’s going to meet tomorrow night. 

”So, tell me about him. How did you two meet?”

”Funny story actually…” Dean starts, and delves into car crashes and hasty meetings at the garage and unexpected dinners and finding the courage to ask Cas out on a real date. The fact that he’s mute hasn’t surfaced a single time, until Dean suddenly remembers and adds it in a haste. 

”And he’s mute. After an accident when he was a kid.” 

Sam swallows some coffee down the wrong windpipe and ends up coughing sharply to get it out. 

”He’s _what_?” 

”Apparently he’s got this thing called _anarthia_ , or something, but he says that he’s used to it.”

”Dean, that’s pretty serious. Are you sure it’s not too much?” 

”What happened to you thinking that he’d lock me up and throw away the key?” Dean mutters, refusing to meet Sam’s annoyed eyes. 

”Alright, maybe I overreacted. But mute? Seriously?”

”Jo’s blind, never stopped me from loving her.”

”Yeah. like a _sister_. This is different.”

”How? Huh, Sam, how is this any different?” Dean snaps, and he doesn’t want to listen to another of Sam’s apologies but he does anyways, because he’s family. 

”I’m sorry.” 

And Dean forgives him. 

 

The following evening, Dean, Sam and Jess are all sitting around Dean’s kitchen table with beers in their hands and a cheese and ham pie in the oven. They were all in favor of a home cooked meal instead of going out to a fancy restaurant with shirts and suits and elegant dresses. Dean is wearing a shirt, though, sleeves rolled up and top buttons not fastened but he’s made an effort and Jess complimented him for it, giving Sam a sidelong glance in his flannel. 

But Sam wasn’t about to have dinner to introduce his girlfriend to the most important person in his life. Dean had a reason to be a bit nervous. 

”He should be here by now,” he says for the umpteenth time and Sam gives him an encouraging smile. 

”He’ll be here any second.”

”Yeah, probably had to park his car somewhere else, the street was looking a bit cramped,” Jess chimes in. 

Dean replies by standing up and pacing around the kitchen. He checks his phone to see if he’s got any texts that he’s missed, but the screen still shines emptily at him. 

”Maybe I should give him a call-” Dean starts but is interrupted by a knock on the door. He turns to it instantly with a wide grin that falters slightly as he remembers Sam’s face when he’d been told about Cas. 

But Dean was stubborn, and his brother was going to like Cas just as much as Cas was going to like Sam. 

When he opens the door, every worry swoops away at the sight of Cas. He’s in a light blue shirt that makes his eyes even more brilliantly blue, and his hair stands up in the middle, making Dean want nothing more than to run his hands through it. The soft smile that plays on his lips is enough to make Dean lean forward and reward them with a kiss before he pulls Cas into the apartment and shuts the door behind him, helping him get out of his coat. 

”My brother’s a bit protective, so please, don’t be offended by him. He’s probably going to want to question you,” Dean whispers into Cas’ ear as Sam and Jess approach them, giving Dean a bewildered look but he can’t explain any further because Jess has reached out her hand for Cas to shake. 

”Hi, I’m Jessica. It’s very nice to meet you, Cas, Dean’s told us a lot about you.” That last part is a bit of a lie, because Dean’s been cautious to tell them anything that Cas might think too private, and has ended up talking about his crappy car and his love for books and sunsets and stuff that’s caused Sam to make gagging noises. 

His brother is looking a bit stiff as he shakes Cas’ hand but then he does something that makes Dean forgive him for everything he’s said about Cas up until that moment. 

He starts talking to him with sign language. 

Cas raises one eyebrow, clearly impressed, but replies, and soon Dean and Jess just watch them, baffled at how quickly they can move their hands. 

”Well, looks like we won’t be needed anymore, Jess,” Dean murmurs into her ear, and she hums in agreement. 

”How about we set the table?” she asks, and they leave Cas and Sam in the hallway, Cas barely inside the door. 

Dean listens intently for any sign that Cas might need some help with his brother, but their conversation takes place in silence and he doesn’t see them until the pie is on the table and he’s yelling that dinner is served. 

The Sam and Cas that emerge from the hallway look like they’ve known each other for years, Cas with a relaxed smile on his face and Sam looking like he just brought his best friend home for dinner. 

They sit and eat, and when Sam translates some of the things that Cas say through his hand he doesn’t seem to mind one bit. Dean feels his heart swell as he watches Cas’ face, watches how he is deep in a conversation about different classes and subjects and words that Dean can’t even pretend to recognize, and he realizes that Cas probably went to college as well. He asks as much, wondering why on earth he is working at a Walmart if he’s got a college degree, but gets an explanation from Sam as Cas’ cheeks go beet red. 

”He’s a few credits short from a degree, and never got around to finishing. Says he’s got a job that pays the rent, and is alright with it.” 

Dean sees in his eyes that he is _not_ alright with it, but decides to drop the subject for now. Cas seems pleased as he starts up a story of how Sam skipped class once in elementary, and that he’d been so embarrassed by it that he’d gone to the teacher afterwards to apologize. Jess laughs loudest of them all, and judging by the look she shares with Sam, Dean can tell that she’s going to hold on to that story for a long time. Instead of getting mad at her for it, Sam just reaches out to take her hand and presses a kiss to it, his eyes smiling widely at her. 

Dean’s breath sort of hitches as he realizes that he’s looking at his future sister-in-law. There’s no ring on her finger, and they’ve only been dating for a few months, but Dean just _knows,_ from the way Sam rarely tears his eyes off her to the way she teasingly runs her fingers through his hair. They are so in love that it sort of makes him feel sick, and he breaks his stare to not give away too much of what he’s just witnessed. 

And then there’s Cas, giving him a knowing smile as their eyes meet, and he reaches for his hand, similar to Sam’s earlier gesture. Dean grabs it and holds on for dear life, because he’s so afraid that if he lets go he will ruin everything.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got stuck reading "Blackbird fly" by artsyUnderstudy and spent the entire day doing that instead of working on my own fic... Check it out, absolutely lovely story <3
> 
> And for all of you living in the US who are as shocked and scared as I am by the results of the election - you are welcome to live with me in Sweden and be black, hispanic, muslim, gay, trans, bi, you can be whoever the fuck you want and I don't care. ALL LIVES MATTER
> 
> And btw, did anyone watch Misha's video on facebook after the results? His voice cracking at the end as he tries not to cry? Oh my chuck I nearly started crying just listening to this beautiful man, breaks my heart 3
> 
> And here's a chapter for you... Just, I'm so glad anyone is reading this at all and actually liking it. Sorry for the unnecessarily long chapter notes, just had a lot on my mind. Hope you enjoy xx

Going to work the next day, after having dinner with Dean, Sam and Jess, seems more difficult than it has been in a long time. He and Sam had hit it off instantly, Sam explaining to him that he’s taken a course in sign language at Stanford and it’s a bit of a relief to be able to converse freely with someone who isn’t his sister. Sam is open-minded and has similar interests to Castiel, and they delved into some grammatical structures of Latin and Aramaic, things Castiel barely knew he even remembered. 

He didn’t notice any of the ’protectiveness’ that Dean had warned him about until just before he left, when Sam pulled him aside and drilled his eyes into his, making him see the resemblance between the brothers. 

”I’m going to say this out loud, because I can’t express my feelings quite as well through my hands. I hope that’s okay,” he’s said, and Castiel nodded solemnly, startled at his sudden change in mood.

”I like you, Cas. A lot. I think that you dating my brother is a good thing, because he seems more relaxed than he’s been in a long time, like he warms up around you. But let me tell you this: if you hurt him, if you so much as pull a hair from his head, I’m going to kill you. I know I'm studying to become a lawyer, and I respect every word of the law, but not when it comes to Dean. If you hurt him I don’t care if I’m going to be executed or locked in for the rest of my life, I will make you pay. Are we clear?” 

The words are spinning in Castiel’s head as he brings his trolley around to the storage unit to fill it up with milk. Sam’s will to protect his brother is admiring, if a little frightening. Castiel just hopes that he’s good enough to fulfill his demands. 

After work, Balthazar aches for a drink and a night out with ’the guys’, including himself, Inias, Alfie, Michael and Hanna. Castiel feels like he owes them a bit of his time, and agrees to go out, the six of them ending up at the bar across the street from the Walmart. They drink a little too much, as always, and Balthazar flirts with everything that moves, like always, and Michael picks up a girl that isn’t Hanna, like always. She looks pining after him as he leaves with a wave, and Castiel gives her a supportive half-hug. All in all, it’s a good night, however the amount of alcohol they consumed reminds them the next morning when it’s time to get back to work. Gabriel scolds them all for being hungover, but he can’t afford to send them all home so instead he punishes them by blaring obnoxiously loud music in the changing rooms. Castiel supposes that they kind of deserve it. 

Friday morning, Dean asks him to join him for another family dinner, this time including Ellen and Bobby and Jo. He can’t refuse the opportunity to meet Dean again, so he accepts, despite being a bit worn out from the work day. His shift ends at seven, but Dean tells him that his attire doesn’t matter and to come to the Singer’s house straight from work, so he does. He chooses a dress shirt and plain black slacks though, feeling like he should at least dress up a little bit. 

When he’s knocked on the door to the house on the street number that Dean had given him, he suddenly remembers that he hasn’t brought anything, wondering if that would be expected from him. The look that Dean gives him as he opens the door is enough for the thought to be blown away with the spring breeze. 

”Hey,” he says, welcoming him with a kiss. ”I’ve missed you,” he breathes against Castiel’s ear, and all he can do is squeeze Dean’s hand but he seems to understand. 

”Come on inside, food’s almost ready. Me and Ellen are a killer team in the kitchen, I’ll tell you that much.” 

Castiel shrugs his coat of, barely getting it off his shoulders before Dean has grabbed it and put it away. With a grin he’s led to the kitchen, where Ellen smiles at him warmly. 

”Cas, honey, good to see you. How’ve you been?” He flashes her an ’ok’-sign, pointing at her to try to mirror her question. She chuckles and turns back to the pot on the stove, stirring it gently. 

”I’m all good. We’ve been real busy at the garage lately, Bobby’s thinking that maybe you’ve been out driving more often.” Castiel frown at her words, causing her to laugh as a man enters the kitchen, trucker cap on his head and small eyes squinted.

”I’m hearing my name, what are you all blaming me for?” 

”The usual,” Dean smirks, nervously taking a step towards Castiel. ”Bobby, this is Cas. Cas, Bobby,” he says, and Castiel feels the old man’s eyes on him. After a split second of consideration he nods, but whether or not he’s pleased with what he’s seen he doesn’t reveal. 

”Nice to meet you, Castiel. You look after this one, eh? He’s a goddamn princess, but we’d hate to lose him.” 

Castiel smiles in a way that he hopes is reassuring, grabbing Dean’s hand because he thinks that he might need it after Bobby’s rough words, but he simply grunts and smiles crookedly at Bobby. 

”I’m not a princess.”

”Sorry, did I hurt your feelings?”

”Boys, that’s enough,” Ellen chimes in, opening a drawer loudly as she grabs Bobby’s hand. ”Set the table for me?” she suggests, and he mumbles an incoherent string of words but gives Ellen a kiss on the cheek. 

As Dean and Castiel make their way to the living room, Castiel gives him a worried look. However, Dean writes him off with a wide smile. 

”That’s just how Bobby is. Don’t worry, you passed the test. He’d have thrown you out headfirst if you hadn’t.” 

Castiel can feel his eyes widening at that, despite not wanting to seem nervous. He composes himself as they reach the other room, where Jess surprises him with a hug. He squeezes her tightly and gives Sam a wave, eyes landing on the blonde girl on the couch. She turns her head towards them, blank, unseeing eyes focused on something far beyond them, and her lips twitch into a small smile. 

”Dean?” she asks, and he takes to large steps to the couch where he leans down to envelop her in a massive hug. She laughs into it and Castiel feels something tug at his chest, learning how deeply Dean’s family loves him. 

He loves his sister, sure, but she’s never broken out into a laugh just from getting a hug. 

”Come here, Cas, meet Jo,” Dean calls, effectively breaking his train of thought. He takes the hand that Jo holds out and Dean makes him sit next to Jo, squeezing in on her other side between her and Sam. Dean seems to regret it as Jess sits in Sam’s lap, their lips locking momentarily. 

Castiel can’t take his eyes off Jo’s grey ones, entranced by their opaque surface. He is stunned by how beautiful she is, hair hanging in loose curls, so different from Jess’ wild ones. She bites her lip and seems to come to the same realization as Castiel because he has no idea what he's doing. 

”Uh, guys?” she says, laughing shortly. ”How are we supposed to….talk to each other?” Castiel winces as a silence spreads in the room, interrupted by Dean’s voice:

”Oh, shit,” he breathes, and then they are all laughing. It’s ridiculous, and it’s not really something they should laugh about, but the complicated mixture of disabilities between Castiel and Jo is so absurd that they don’t know what else to do. She can talk, and he can listen, but he can’t reply with more than one or two knocks on the sofa table. 

”What’s going on in here?” Bobby asks as he joins them with a pile of plates in his hands, on his way to the dining table. 

”We’re trying to get Cas and Jo to talk to each other, but they’re refusing to cooperate,” Sam offers as an explanation, laughter deep in his voice. 

”Jo just won’t read anything that he writes, and Cas won’t get around to speaking to her,” Jess fills in, enticing another round of giggles between them. 

”Children, I am surrounded by children,” Bobby sighs, turning away. 

”I thought we were ’idjits’?” Dean calls after him, getting a quick response:

”Shut up, you idjit!” 

There’s really no way to stop them from laughing after that. 

 

Once they are all seated at the table Castiel and Jo have managed a short conversation through Sam, who insisted on helping out. Castiel glanced at Dean every now and then, worried that he’d feel left out, but the smile on his face was enough for that worry to disappear. He had Jess, of course, who was happy enough to discuss car models and something called ’top gear’, that included three British guys and a ’Stig’, from what Castiel could tell. 

Castiel and Dean take seats next to each other, and when they’ve all filled their plates with food and the first bites are taken in silence, Castiel can feel a knee brushing up against his leg. He replies with a cocked eyebrow and a foot entangled with Dean’s, receiving a smile through a mouth stuffed with food in response. 

The Singer-Harvelles are every bit as charming as the Winchesters, which Castiel understands is because they are, in fact, one big family. He feels blessed to be allowed this small peak into their lives, watching Jo and Dean tease each other across the table, Sam and Ellen’s intense discussions about technology in the future, and the way Jess breaks through Bobby’s tough façade and reveals a softer version of him.

Through the night, Castiel doesn’t feel left out for one second. He is pulled from conversation to conversation, everyone waiting patiently for him as he replies via his phone, and it’s easy because they want to hear what he has to say. They don’t carry on talking without giving him a chance to add his own experiences and thoughts of a topic, and he’s so grateful that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

The time passes too quickly, and when it’s starting to get near midnight he feels like it’s time to leave, to let the family have some alone time. He writes the words to Dean, who silently reads them and grabs his hand. 

”You sure? We’ve hung out all week, you’re not intruding on anything. But if you’re tired, that’s okay. We can be a bit…intense,” Dean says quietly, the smile only meant for his eyes. 

_I’d like to go home. Can you thank Ellen and Bobby for me? And tell Jo, Sam and Jess again that it was very nice to meet them all?_ Castiel writes, and is not expecting to be dragged to his feet. 

”Cas just wanted to say thank you to Ellen and Bobby for a great night, and that he’s happy to have met you all. But now we’re going to call it a night,” Dean says to the small group, and every eye (minus Jo’s, but her face is directed towards him) is on Castiel. The usual anxiety of being the center of attention is nowhere to be seen, and Castiel hopes that his smile is enough for them to see how much he cares for them all. 

”Come on,” Dean murmurs into his ear as he’s probably starting to look a little strange with how long he’s just staring at them all. He breaks free of his trance and heads to the front door, not missing how Dean walks around the table to give them all a hug goodbye. 

 

”Did you have a good time? For real?” Dean asks once they’re outside the house, slowly walking to Castiel’s car. He replies by taking Dean’s calloused hand in his and squeezes it tightly. Something’s been gnawing at his mind all night, and he wonders if now is the right time to bring it up. Dean seems to be in a good enough mood, happily trailing beside him in the darkness. He even opens the car door for Castiel, and he can feel eyes on him as he gets in.

”I could go with you,” he suggests, licking his lips. Castiel nods at him, because he really wants him to, but his heart is in his throat as Dean walks around the car and slides in beside him, nearly knocking him over with a forceful kiss. 

”Is your sister home?” Dean breathes, and groans as Castiel nods. But while his heart is into the kiss, his head is not, and Dean notices, pulling away with a frown. 

”What’s wrong?” he asks, and Castiel hates that he’s bringing his phone out to answer but he has to. 

_Why did you warn me about Sam being protective?_

He sees Dean’s expression harden as he reads the words, and now he pulls away for real, leaving a full three feet between them. 

”He’s my brother, he cares too much about what I do. Nothing to worry about, I just figured that you should be prepared. Why, did he say anything to you?”

_He just threatened me with murder if I ever hurt you. I think that’s a bit more than ’caring too much’._

”Never mind him,” Dean says through gritted teeth, and Castiel knows that he’s pushed too far. Dean tries to kiss him again, to get the spark back up and have them pining for each other like two lovestruck teenagers, but Castiel can’t get his mind to drop the image of Sam’s face towering above him, eyes burning with anger and fear. 

”What!?” Dean growls, throwing himself back in the passenger seat. ”Goddamn it, what do you want from me, Cas? Sam’s paranoid, can you just forget about it?” 

Okay, now Castiel should really stop prying for answers. But damn it, he’s stubborn, and if it was anyone else he’d stop, but it’s not just anyone else. It’s _Dean_ , and he’s worried because Sam was worried and Bobby and Ellen hadn’t let him out of their sight all night. He’s worried because _something_ is wrong, and Dean won’t tell him about it.

_I just have the feeling that something happened to you. I don’t want to force you to tell me something you are not comfortable with, but it would ease my conscience to know that you are alright._

He adds, _are you alright, Dean?_

Dean barely has time to read the words before he has kicked the car door open again and is out of the car. 

”I’m fine,” he spits, slamming it shut with such for that the entire car rocks back and forth a few times. ”I think I’m going to go back inside, talk to Bobby for a bit. I’ll see you,” he says, and turns around without casting so much as a glance in Castiel’s direction. 

The words burn against Castiel’s eyelids, and keep replaying the entire ride back to his and Anna’s apartment. How he manages to hold his tears back until the car is parked is a mystery to him, but as soon as he sits in silence a sob breaks through and he cringes at the broken, ruined sound. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter, and I'm feeling like the plot is sort of lost in the wind but hopefully you'll stick with me until I can find it again xx

Dean is drunk. 

And not ’wow, can you try to speak without slurring the words’-drunk or ’dude, you can’t even walk straight’-drunk. 

Standing up is not even an option anymore. 

Dean tried. Several times, actually, without success. 

He moves to take another swig of the bottle only to realize that it’s empty. 

Shit. 

He just emptied an entire bottle of whiskey. 

Perhaps not the strongest stuff he could find, because he hadn’t brought a lot of money to Bobby and Ellen’s and at the liquor store between their house and his apartment you could pretty much choose between strong, stronger and strongest. 

He’d taken what he could afford and started drinking from the bottle, concealed in a brown paper bag, on the remainder of the way home. 

Now he felt numb, which was exactly what he had been going for, brain wrapped up in intoxication and the turmoil of his mind subsided for now. Cas had picked at a wound, dragged off the duct tape that was holding him together and revealed that he was still a bleeding, weak mess. 

It shouldn’t have this affect on him, and he shouldn’t have lashed out at Cas, he knows that, but _jesus christ_ it hurts. It burns through his veins along with the alcohol, the two of them attempting to cancel each other out. 

Dean knows he’s got it bad when the door is opened and he can hear the soft footsteps of Sam and Jess coming home. 

He’s sitting on the couch that now works as their bed, body slumped into the cushions and he can’t even make a sound as to welcome them home. 

”Dean?” Sam’s worried voice calls and Dean wants to laugh, because Sammy always worries about him and look at him now. What has all his worrying done to prevent this from happening? 

”It reeks in here,” Jess whispers. She sounds worried too, and Dean wants to make them shut up and just stop treating him like a child for one second. They don’t need to worry about him. He’s fine. 

He’s so, so far from fine it’s not even funny. 

”What the hell, man? D’you and Cas hit a bar or something?” Sam snorts, still not seeing the empty bottle in Dean’s hand, still not sensing the pain radiating from him. 

”M’fine. Ca’ wenn home,” he slurs, tongue numb and lips not helping out a lot either.

”Sam, he’s really gone. Shouldn’t we-”

”Go get a glass of water, Jess. I’ll move him to his room.” 

”Sam-”

”Just- please. Trust me,” Sam insists, and Dean feels like laughing when he hears Jess’ irritated scoff and her steps as she leaves the room. 

”B’nice to her,” he mumbles, barely noticing how Sam hoists him up by the arms like he’s a little child. 

”I’m trying,” Sam replies sadly, and when Dean realizes that he’s actually on his feet he remembers why he’d wanted to lie down. 

”Sammy, ’m gonna be sick,” he breathes, feeling the nausea build up his throat. Re-routing them to the bathroom, Sam manages to get him to kneel in front of the toilet just as he throws up. 

”’Kay I’m good,” he groans, wondering why it’s so difficult to breathe. As he reaches out for Sam’s waiting hand, his arm doesn’t quite cooperate and he can feel it spasming. 

”It’s okay, Dean. You just need to get it out of your system,” Sam tries to explain, but Dean is more focused on leaning over the toilet again as his stomach heaves. 

The sound and smell of it just worsens the feeling in his churning gut, and he doesn’t know for how long he stays there but he never wants to leave. He presses his forehead to the cold porcelain, empty inside and just slightly more clearheaded than before.

”I’m never doing that again,” he mumbles, acid in his throat and eyelids heavy. Just as he straightens up to sit against the wall, Sam hands him a glass of water that he downs quickly. 

”You ready to go to bed?” his brother asks, and he shakes his head, immediately regretting the movement because the room starts to spin and he can’t stop it. 

”Just give me a minute.” 

Sam sits next to him and if Dean starts crying when an arm is held around his shoulders, no one ever needs to know. 

”What happened?” Sam asks eventually, when Dean’s sobbing has quieted down and he’s just breathing slowly. 

”I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He hates that his voice cracks because it means that Sam won’t believe him. 

”Yeah, right you don’t. Did he- did he hurt you?” 

”No, Sammy. He was just wondering why you’d threatened to kill him.” Dean sneaks a glance at Sam’s cheeks, finding them beet red and he chuckles to himself. 

”You’re so much like dad it’s not even funny,” he says and he wants to get out of Sam’s embrace but movement is difficult right now. 

”No I’m not,” Sam protests, his arm retreating as Dean shuffles uncomfortably. 

”Yeah, you really are.”

”Jerk.”

”Bitch.” 

They smile, and Dean is so grateful because at least he didn’t mess this up. At least Sam turned out okay. 

”Come one, let’s get you to bed,” his brother says at last, and with a joined effort Dean is on his feet and soon the pillows welcome him. He suddenly remembers Sam’s injury, and struggles to get the words out but he has to make sure that Sam is okay. 

”Shoulder?” he mumbles into the bed, twisting his head so his nose is free from the fabric. 

”I’m fine, don’t worry. Get some sleep.” 

”M’kay.” Dean likes the sound of that. Sleep is nice. 

”Good night, Dean,” Sam whispers, leaving the door cracked open, a sliver of light dancing into the darkness. 

 

Hangovers are something that Dean usually cures with more whiskey, but not today. He doesn’t know for how long he’s been asleep, but his phone tells him that it’s one in the afternoon and that just makes him want to roll over and go back to sleep. 

Soft voices travel into his room, and he doesn’t want to listen to them but he can’t turn off his ears. 

”Are you going to tell me about what happened last night? Or do I have to ask Dean himself? This place smells like a bar, and you’re just acting like everything’s normal,” Jess says, words tinged with annoyance. It gives Dean the impression that she’s already tried to get Sam to talk, without success. 

Now, however, he seems to budge. 

”Remember what I’ve told you about my dad? And not Bobby, my real dad.”

”You said he died in a car accident caused by a drunk driver.” There’s a pause, and Dean can almost hear the wheels spinning in Jess’ head. ”Oh,” she adds eventually. 

”Yeah. Dad had a bit of a drinking problem. I was just a kid when he died, twelve years old, but Dean- Dean remembers it all. He was the one who had to clean up John’s mess, make sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit, get him to sober up enough to go to work. It was tough on him.”

”Sam, no one should have to go through that. You should have contacted child services, the police, anyone. Your dad needed help.”

”But we needed him. He loved us, Jess. He just had a hard time coping after mom’s death.” 

”This still doesn’t explain why Dean emptied an entire bottle of whiskey last night.”

Dean groans and gets out of bed. He’s wearing boxers and a t-shirt, enough to go and interrupt the conversation that he doesn’t want to listen to. 

”He drinks to deal with the memories, I think. He’s in way too deep, always has been, but-”

”I prefer to be called ’functioning alcoholic’,” Dean huffs out, and Sam and Jess’ heads snap in his direction. Jess’ face softens as he sees his expression, and she pours him a cup of coffee as he sits by the table. 

”Sorry,” she mumbles and puts the cup in front of him. He nods a thank you and takes a sip, the caffeine helping his mind clear up. 

”So, when are you two heading back?” Dean asks, effectively shutting up any attempt at asking him how he is. For now, he just needs to exist for a few minutes without contemplating how it feels. 

”Tomorrow morning, plane leaves at nine am. Can you drive us to the airport or should we get a cab?” Sam says the words softly, because he is acutely aware of Dean’s splitting headache and Dean is grateful for it. 

”I’m driving, I’d rather die than let you two ride in a cab instead of my baby. I think Bobby and Ellen would like to come over tonight, to say goodbye. After all, we don’t know when we’ll se you both again.” 

”Well, it is Sam’s birthday soon, so maybe you’d like to come to us?” Jess suggests, clearly not pleased with ignoring the fact that Dean’s eyes are bloodshot and his voice sounds like he’s been swallowing gravel, but she sucks it up. 

”I’m not flying,” Dean grunts, and when Sam and Jess share a smile he bites back the words that would sound more angry than he really is. 

 

The weekend is over way too soon, dinner with the Winchester-Harvelle-Singer-Moores pleasant and familiar and it chips away at Dean’s tense mood until he’s one step closer to okay. He drives Sam and Jess to the airport with the promise to at least consider flying out for Sam’s birthday, watching them leave hand in hand, Jess shouldering all of their luggage once again. 

She’s so strong, so perfect for Sam that for the first time in years Dean knows that his brother will be fine. Because even though it hurts that Dean is not the one who wakes him up and makes sure he gets to school anymore, he knows that at least Sam is not alone.

He’s starting to feel quite alone himself on the drive back to his apartment, and tries to calculate how drunk he can get today and still have time to sober up enough to go to work tomorrow. Maybe he should just call in sick, Bobby and Ellen would understand. 

Well, they’d call him a lazy teenager and bang on his door unless he showed them a doctor’s note that he really was sick, but still. They’d sort of understand. 

As he pulls up to the curb he spots a familiar form perched on the stairs leading up to the door of his apartment building, and he nearly wants to keep driving and avoid him for at least a few days, but it’s Cas, and he’s here, and Dean couldn’t even try to deny that he really, really wants to feel his presence again. 

Once the engine is turned off he stays in the car for a moment, eyes locked with Cas’ but neither of them make a move. Dean wonders if he’s come to apologize, which he hopes that he hasn’t, because he hates apologies and it isn’t Cas’ fault that he can’t answer a simple question without running away. 

It’s Dean that finally breaks the silence between them and leaves the car, sitting down next to Cas on the steps. He turns towards him with a small smile, close enough to feel his breath on his skin. 

”Hey,” he says, and the corner of Cas’ mouth quirks up. He offers his phone to Dean, an explanation, something, and Dean doesn’t want to hear it but he takes the phone anyways. 

_I crossed a line yesterday and I should have known when to stop. But I am not going to apologize for wanting to know what has happened to you, which I hope that you can respect. Unless you are thoroughly repulsed by me and never want to see me again, I would like to have dinner with you._

”How about we order some pizza?” Dean smirks, and when Cas kisses him he isn’t even surprised. However, he does make sure to leave him breathless. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if I'm entirely pleased with how this turned out, but now I'm posting it and it's too late to change my mind. Thank you for reading, warms my heart xx

Castiel is panting, breaths coming out in short bursts as he leans back, head hitting the wall with a thump but he barely notices it. He reaches a hand down to ground himself, to make sure that this is actually happening, and when his fingers latch on to soft, brown hair he realizes that maybe this is real. 

Dean hums and looks up, his eyes meeting Castiel’s and his knees are dangerously close to buckling underneath him when he sees how his cock is disappearing into Dean’s mouth. The lips that are wrapped around him are pink and delicious and as pressure is added to the underside of his head, he knows that it’s Dean’s tongue that is the cause of it. 

He’s being unravelled, mind exploding into a million pieces and his balls sort of twitch and drag closer to his body and he comes, gasping as Dean doesn’t let go but swallows down his come like he’s never done anything else. 

Castiel still feels the taste of Dean on his tongue, having blown him only minutes earlier and he’s still amazed at how quickly Dean can pull him apart. He’s becoming dangerously infatuated with Dean, but he doesn’t know how to stop. 

When the man stands up on wobbly legs and kisses him deeply, he’s not sure he wants to stop, if not for Dean’s sake. 

Three months. 

It’s been three months since he lost the grip of the steering wheel and hit Dean’s car. Three months of spending every possible minute together, fighting, making it up, pushing at each other’s secrets and trying not to break every time they fall deeper and deeper into each other. 

The reason for currently being pressed against each other in Dean’s hallway, barely making it inside before things went further than just kissing, is because Dean has just returned from spending a long weekend with his brother in California. With the way he’s been talking about planes crashing and that metal tubes shouldn’t be able to fly, Castiel has been worried that he wouldn’t want to risk flying back to Kansas and that he’d stay on the west coast instead. 

Dean replied by texting him some explicit details of what they’d do once he was back home, which settled Castiel’s nerves only slightly. 

They are coming down from their highs, clinging desperately to each other when Dean says something that has Castiel flinching so violently that he smacks his head against the wall again, and this time he feels it. 

”I love you,” he whispers, and his face is buried in the crook of Castiel’s neck so he can’t look him in the eyes, but he knows what he heard. Dean pulls back once he realizes how Castiel is frozen solid, closer to being a statue than a living, breathing human. 

Well, sort of breathing. His lungs are aching with every breath and it’s a struggle to get air through his throat, but he doesn’t say as much to Dean. 

”I had to tell you, because I’ve been having a near-death experience lately with flying and all, and the entire time the only thing that kept me grounded was knowing that you’d be here, waiting for me.” 

Castiel never thought he’d use this word do describe how he’s feeling, but right now he’s speechless.

—

Dean’s a bit worried as he watches Cas, not knowing how he’d react but at least he’d hoped for some kind of a reaction. Anything but this quiet, frozen form in front of him that’s seriously starting to freak him out. 

—

”I love you, Cas,” Dean repeats.  
Castiel still doesn’t know how to reply to that, so he just stares at him. Dean can’t love him, because he doesn’t know what he’s signed up for. 

—

Cas’ confused eyes are frustrating, and Dean feels like throwing up. Why can’t he just let go and love him back? Does Cas even want to be with him? He practically shouts the next words at him, anger burning through his voice. 

”Well? Can’t you say a fucking word back? I just bared my soul four you and all you can do is stare?” 

—

Castiel opens his mouth, why, he doesn’t know, because he wouldn’t be able to get any words out even if he wanted to. 

He leans forwards to kiss Dean’s parted lips, because maybe that’s what he wants, maybe that will soothe him. Dean breaks the kiss, eyes angrily staring him down. 

—

”Just stop trying to do what I want all the time and start thinking about yourself for one fucking second. What do you want? Huh, Cas, what the hell do you want from me? I’m not going to be your fucking whore, here to fuck you whenever you feel like it. I’ve already tried that, and it’s not a great base for a relationship. But maybe that’s all you want? To use me up until I’m as messed up as you and then leave me for your next victim?” 

Cas parts from him then, nearly running to the front door, where he grabs his trench coat and Dean knows that he’s going to leave and it hurts so much to know that he’s messed this up too, that he can’t get anyone to stay. 

—

”Cas, talk to me! Don’t you dare just walk away!” Castiel is fuming, and he hopes that Dean can read his expression because he doesn’t want to stay long enough to write the words out.

_How am I supposed to talk to you, Dean?_

—

Dean can see it, he can see the fight leave Cas’ face as he grabs the door handle. He’s giving up, because he doesn’t know how to talk to Dean. He doesn’t know how to make Dean listen, when all Dean’s ever done is listen to him. He’s so afraid of not being enough, of not having a physical voice that he won’t use the one that’s already inside him. 

He’s giving up. 

Dean will never give up on him, he’s too far gone. 

Cas opens the door and steps out, and Dean wants nothing more than to pull him back in. If only Cas understood that Dean doesn’t mind waiting for him to write out a long and detailed reply to his short answer, because every time that he does he gets to just watch his beautiful face and eyes without being judged for it. 

—

Castiel leaves Dean behind, just another human that condemns him for not being able to speak. 

He doesn’t have a voice. He’s a spectator, made to watch other people live their lives, because nothing he can do will ever change anything. 

He isn’t meant to interfere with others. He isn’t meant to take up someone else’s time. He isn’t meant to fall in love. 

—

Dean doesn’t know what happened. He was confessing that he loved him, something he’d never said in earnest to another human before, and now he’s gone. 

He messed up. He wanted Cas to say it back, to get some sort of confirmation that he’s not falling head over heels over a man that doesn’t want him back. 

But he’s kidding himself. He’s already so deeply in love with Cas that he doesn’t care if the guy wants to abuse him, because after all, that’s all he really knows how to deal with and if-

Dean’s close to ripping his hair out of his skull. Cas wouldn’t hurt him, because he’s just way too pure to even consider something like that. The truth is that maybe Cas just doesn’t like him back. That maybe he doesn’t have an ulterior move in mind, and that breaks Dean’s heart. 

 

The hours tick by, and all the anger and frustration seeps from Dean’s body. He realizes that he’s just made a huge, fucking mistake by scaring Cas away, and he doesn’t know if he can fix it. But damn it, he’s going to try. 

The pen shakes in his hand and he feels like a teenager, but this is the only thing he can think of that might be enough. 

 

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a long one, and some revelations about Dean's past... Hope it makes sense, I'm so tired right now and shouldn't be posting at all but I can't help it xx

Anna knows that he’s upset, knows that he doesn’t want to talk, but she refuses to let him shut himself into his room. She’s making him some tea, and she won’t force him to talk but she won’t let him out of her sight. 

He messed up. He knows that he messed up so bad because once he gets home and the tears are streaking his face the first thing he wants to do is talk to Dean about it, and he realizes what that blooming, nerve-splitting feeling in his chest every time he laid eyes on the other man is and it hurts so much because he’s ruined it. 

He’s too late. Once again, the words have failed him and he’s so scared of losing Dean because that means losing his voice. 

He thinks of how his brain is wired in all the wrong ways, of the scars on his arms and of wanting to die. Dean can’t love him because he doesn’t _know him_ , doesn’t know how truly fucked up he is and if he did he would leave him. 

”Castiel, you know that you’re lying to yourself. Dean won’t care if you tell him about the scars, he will understand. And he won’t pity you for it.” 

_I don’t know what to do_ , Castiel signs, and Anna offers a weak smile. 

”Yeah, you do. You two fight more than is strictly healthy, and you somehow manage to figure it out. Maybe this time you just need to be honest with him and tell him the truth. You can’t pretend like your past never happened, and neither can he. But you can get over it together.” 

He wants to, he really does. But now he’s not so sure that Dean still does. 

 

Castiel goes to work, goes through the motions of a normal life, but he doesn’t listen to Balthazars voice, he isn’t bothered by the way the customers blush when he reveals that he’s mute. He fills up the shelves and ignores the way his lungs are screaming at him. 

 

He stays in bed during the weekend, unable to sleep but not quite awake. He listens to his hacking breaths and accepts the cups and cups of ginger tea that Anna makes for him. 

 

He doesn’t care when Anna hands him an envelope, thick in his hands and with a familiar smell. Breathing is all he can care about right now, because if he doesn’t he might stop. 

 

He gets better, slowly. The cold leaves his body and his nose stops running, and his strength returns to some extent.

He finds the envelope and doesn’t want to open it, but he does. 

 

_Cas,_

_I wanted to call you, but I think that my voice is the last thing you want to hear right now. I’m kind of sick of it myself, actually._  
I’m not much of a writer, which you are about to discover. But since you sort of live through written words I hope you appreciate the fact that I, Dean frickin’ Winchester, am writing a letter. Chick-flick-teenage-rom-com, here we go.   
You told me once that you’re a little messed up. Well, guess what? I’m a little messed up, too. I think you’ve figured that out by now, though. The sob-story about why I’m afraid every time you touch me is one that I’ll have to tell you face to face, because if I ever write those words down I’m going to make them permanent in a way I can’t handle. I need to forget about it, and you’re the one that’s come closest to help me do that.   
When I look into a mirror, I hate what I see. I can’t stop it, and it’s something that I have to deal with and get over, but hopefully you can help me with that, too.   
You see me in a way no one else does. You listen, talk back, encourage me to be happier, and I can never thank you enough for that. And every time I’ve pushed you a little too far it has been because I want you to see yourself through my eyes. Your vocal chords may be busted, but Cas, you still have a voice. Use it. Tell me stories about what it was like to decorate that apartment of yours with your sister. Tell me about your first kiss, your first love, that time you lost your v-card. Tell me secrets that I can use to tease you whenever we grow bored.   
Tell me if you love me. Please, please do me that favor. Because if you don’t, I need to know what to do to make you love me back. 

_I need you, Cas. And goddamn it, I might as well say it again._

_I love you._

_I love you so much._

_You don’t even have a clue._

_It’s 2 am, I’m on the fucking floor of my bedroom because it’s the only smooth, hard surface in here that’s got enough room for this paper, and my back is killing me and I can see the sock underneath my bed that we couldn’t find the last time you were here._  
And I love you.   
And I need to hear it from you. Need to know that I’m not deluding myself again, because I honestly don’t think I can handle another fake-romance.   
Please don’t call me, I wouldn’t know what to say. I’d like to see you, but if you’re not comfortable with that, a text is just fine.   
Anyways, I’m holding your sock hostage for now. It’s being treated fairly, so don’t worry.   
As always, take care of yourself.   
Your Dean

 

 

Castiel is standing outside Dean’s door, and having made it all the way here, he still doesn’t know what he’s going to do. The letter is in his front left pocket, next to his inhalator and the pill bottle. Three things that are keeping him alive. 

The knowledge that Dean is on the other side of that door, breathing, living, Dean, makes Castiel’s chest flutter in a strange way. 

He knows what he’s going to say. That it wasn’t Dean’s fault, that he is a wonderful, wonderful man but that Castiel doesn’t want him to love him. Doesn’t understand how anyone could say those three words to _him_ , Castiel, forever on the sidelines of his own life. Dean deserves better. He deserves someone a little less broken. 

Castiel knocks on the door, and the shuffling from inside nearly makes him turn away. But this is Dean, and he can at least do him the favor of facing him. The door is opened and every speck of resistance in Castiel vanishes as he sees Dean’s tear-streaked face and red eyes.

”Cas?” he whispers, and Castiel swallows past the lump in his throat. ”Oh god, Cas, I’m so sorry. You don’t know how sorry I am, I never should have said those things, do you hear me? I’m so-”

Castiel shuts him up with a kiss that tastes of whiskey and salt and love and forgiveness. He kisses him like his life is depending on it, and maybe it is. Maybe Dean is all he ever needed and everything he didn’t know that he wanted. 

Castiel’s hands shake as he grabs on to Dean’s hair, soft hair through his fingers and he holds on like he never wants to let go. Dean’s arms around his chest tell a similar tale, and he all but carries him to the couch where they lie down to be even closer, impossibly close. 

When Dean starts unbuttoning his shirt, Castiel rips it off and lifts his head up to kiss the freckled skin. When Castiel’s belt is unbuckled and his pants roughly pulled down he’s only focused on doing the same to Dean’s sweatpants.

When Castiel finds out that Dean’s not wearing any underwear, well, he can’t be held responsible for the inhuman growl that escapes him. Dean starts grinding his hips down against Cas’, cocks sliding together and the friction is unbelievable. Cas’ hands find Dean’s ass and he pulls him closer still, feeling the tip of his cock sliding against his perineum and he remembers that time in Dean’s bedroom with a flush of his cheeks.

”I need you, Cas,” Dean breathes and they both gasp as he grinds down just as Cas is bucking up against him. ”I want to fuck you so hard your legs will shake afterwards,” he continues, and how Castiel doesn’t come from his voice alone is a miracle. He nods more frantically than he ever has before, and whimpers as Dean’s warmth suddenly disappears. The time it takes for Dean to go to the bedroom to pick up the lube in his bedside drawer is just enough for Castiel to pull his shirt off and adjust his position on the couch. As Dean towers above him his face looks so soft, so young that Castiel can’t resist reaching up to touch it. Dean rewards him with a tender kiss that somehow travels from his lips to his throat, sucking a mark on the side of his neck, nibbling at his nipples in a way that makes him writhe underneath the strong body. Castiel gasps as Dean’s lubed, slick fingers wrap around his cock and gives it a few long strokes before continuing further down, spreading his legs to reach his fluttering hole. He expertly massages the rim before pushing a digit inside, Castiel hissing as the unrelenting finger reaches inside all the way to the knuckles. It doesn’t hurt, though, as much as it is a bit uncomfortable, and when Castiel starts pushing his hips back against it Dean chuckles and agonizingly slowly he starts fucking him with his finger. Castiel meets his every thrust, and before he can beg for more a second finger is added, scissoring inside him to stretch him out. 

By the time Dean has three fingers buried in Castiel’s ass, they are both sweating and shaking from the anticipation. Castiel squeezes Dean’s arm, hard, when he can’t take it anymore and just needs Dean inside him _now_ , and Dean complies with a deep kiss that has them surfacing for air. 

Dean’s fingers disappear, and Castiel whimpers at the loss of them, simultaneously hearing the sound of lube being spread onto Dean’s cock, and soon the not-so-small head is lined up with his waiting hole. 

”I love you,” Dean whispers, his words disappearing in another breathless kiss that Castiel has to break because Dean is pushing inside him now, slowly easing his cock into Castiel’s prepped hole and he feels so full, so complete.

Dean bottoms out with a grunt, his balls snug against Castiel’s ass and they stay like that for a moment, both lost in the sensations of Dean being buried so deep inside. Castiel is the first to grow impatient, and he starts wriggling his hips to get Dean to just _move_ already. The man is quick to comply, and slowly pulls out until only the tip of his cock is stretching Cas’ rim before slamming back with such force that the couch actually moves a little on the floor. Dean sets up a steady rhythm of pulling out and thrusting back in, and Castiel’s hard cock bobs and rubs between their stomachs at every thrust, his eyes rolling back in his skull as Dean hits his prostate. He meets Dean’s every thrust, wanting him to go deeper, angling his hips to make him hit that bundle of nerves with every thrust and it has him shaking from the pure pleasure, never getting enough. 

As always, Dean reads his thoughts, and intertwines their fingers with one hand while the other wraps around Castiel’s cock and starts jerking it in time with his thrusts. All Castiel can do is breathe the shared air between his and Dean’s mouths and bite his bottom lip as he blacks out for a second, his orgasm hitting him hard. His entire body clenches up for a second, and he can feel Dean’s cock start swelling up in his ass before he comes too, spilling his come inside Castiel and then collapsing on top of him. 

Castiel laughs, carding his hand that is not holding Dean’s through the other man’s hair, scratching his neck softly and feeling a mumble of content pass through Dean’s throat. 

Dean lifts his head enough to be able to meet his eyes, and Castiel gets lost in the deep green and glittering gold that is Dean. 

”I love you,” he says again, voice softer this time, almost uncertain. 

_I love you_ , Castiel mouths back, squeezing his hand three times. 

They stay in that position for a while, limbs locked together and Dean’s cock still inside Castiel, neither of them wanting to separate their bodies again. Soon, however, Castiel’s come dries and sticks against their stomachs, and the bliss turns uncomfortable for the both of them. 

”Shower?” Dean asks, and despite wanting to stay like that for the rest of his life, Castiel complies. He whimpers as Dean pulls out, his ass oversensitive but already clenching around the cock that is no longer there, missing the feeling of being so full. 

They leave for the shower, hands still intertwined, and when the spray has reached the perfect temperature Dean pulls them both inside. He squirts some soap in his hand and starts scrubbing Castiel’s stomach, chest, arms, once again not commenting the scars he finds there for which Castiel is grateful. He does run the pads of his fingers across them, but doesn’t meet Castiel’s worried gaze. Castiel’s back gets a deep and thorough scrub as well, and Dean even lifts the shower head down to rinse out the remaining come in Castiel’s ass.

Once he’s deemed Castiel clean enough, he starts to roughly soap himself up until Castiel stops him. The expression on Dean’s face is so startled, so surprised by the tender treatment of Castiel’s hands cleaning his skin that Castiel can’t resist giving him a soft kiss. 

When Dean’s back is facing Castiel, it is as if he only then dares to speak. 

”When I was in high school, I had a hard time figuring out who I was. Straight? Gay? I didn’t know, and it took me a while to realize that it was okay to like both girls and guys. Charlie who works at BL’s was in my class, and she helped me along the way. She says she knew the first time she laid eyes on me.   
Once I had sort of accepted who I was I felt like I needed to shout it out to the world, or at least the whole school, which I did during a lunch period. I was a popular kid, everyone knew who I was, and it was nice to be able to flip off every homophobe in the school and tell them that hey: I’m bisexual, and there’s nothing you can do about it. It sure gave me some attention, both wanted and unwanted, and-” Dean pauses here, and Castiel is secretly glad that he can’t see the man’s face and the pain that has to shine through his beautiful eyes. He keeps rubbing his back, more of a massage than a scrub now, and waits for him to find his voice. 

”There was this guy, Alastair, who came up to me and told me how impressed he was by what I’d done. I was begging for attention by then, which he gave me. We started going out, we’d kiss in the hallways, have dinner together at every restaurant in town, hold hands wherever we went and I was so proud of the way he’d look at me, like I was the most gorgeous creature in the world. 

He hit me the first time he fucked me. I was inexperienced, eager and a horny teenager, and when he said that it was supposed to hurt, that I should take it like a man and stop whining about it, I didn’t know any better. He- uh, he didn’t prep me, the first time we did it, and I started to bleed. He called me a pussy and said I was weak, and when I tried to talk back he hit the side of my head so hard that my vision blacked out for a moment.   
When it was over he left me in my bed, blood and come everywhere, and I passed out. Sammy was the one who found me, but I made him promise not to tell Bobby or Ellen what had happened.

I should have stopped seeing him, should have understood what was going on, but he gave me things, told me he was sorry, that it wouldn’t hurt as much the next time, and I fell for his lies and let him fuck me again, and again, my ass so sore I could barely walk, but I let him do it. I let him use me because I thought that’s what it was like to be with a guy, and since had just told the school that I was gay I had to suck it up. He’d hit my back to keep me still when I flinched from the pain, grabbed my neck as a warning to stop crying. I was a mess, bruised and broken but I thought I loved him, and that what we were doing was right. 

After high school, Al got into some deals with the wrong people and after four years together he was sent to prison, 10 years for attempted murder. When we’d split up, I figured that maybe I should go back to dating girls, that maybe I wasn’t bisexual after all and that it had just been a phase, so I did. I met Lisa, a sweet girl who I lived with for a while, but we sort of drifted apart and realized that we were both pretending to love each other when we really didn’t. We parted as friends, and I was single once again. But I hated being alone, hated it, and Sam was leaving for Stanford and I felt too old to still be living with Bobby and Ellen, and I needed someone to share my life with.

That’s when I met Gordon. At first, he was everything I wanted, kind, funny, had the same sense of humor as me, and we had a great time. But then after a while I sensed that it was time to make it official, that he’d started to get bored of me, and so I let him fuck me and I was back at high school, a nervous teenager who just wanted attention, which he gave me. 

He was different from Alastair, more gentle, took time to spread me open and make sure I came as well, but he wanted too much. He wanted me to stay at home all day in his apartment, have a meal cooked for him by the time he got home, and to be prepped for him so he could fuck me at the dinner table. Sometimes I’d sit in his lap, feeding him while his cock was inside me. Every time we’d fucked he’d put a butt plug in my ass to keep the come inside and keep me stretched and ready for him, and when I complained and begged to be able to take it out during the days, just so I could take a dump and clean it out, he told me to stop eating. 

Which I did. I started drinking to forget how hungry I was, sometimes I’d forget to make dinner for him and then he’d knock me unconscious and fuck me while I was out. I never left the apartment, and the only person who kept trying to stay in touch after I’d flipped them off was Sam, but I just told him that I was fine. Didn’t want him to worry, not when I’d put myself in that situation. Eventually I got really weak from not eating, and when Sam didn’t hear from me for two weeks he flew over to see me in person. It took him days to find out where I lived, and when he did find me he punched Gordon in the face and took me to the hospital. I was starving, my ass was infected and it took weeks for them to wake me up. By then Gordon had been arrested and Sam told me not to worry, that he’d take care of me. When I was discharged from the hospital he drove me to Bobby and Ellen’s, and they took me in again. I started working at the garage, and, well, you know the rest.” 

He turns around, finally facing Castiel who brings a hand up to wipe away the tears from underneath his eyes. 

”This gorgeous mute guy messed up my baby and I wasn’t even mad at him for it, that’s how good-looking he was.” 

Castiel rolls his eyes and reaches to turn the shower off, water starting to go cold. They stand there, mere inches apart with water dripping from their bodies, not touching apart from holding each other’s hands. 

”I’m a mess, Cas. And yeah, maybe I still have functioning vocal chords, and maybe I can sleep and breathe just fine, but I have my own issues. You can’t shut me out because you’re afraid I won’t like the real you, you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to decide who loves you, you just love them back.”

Castiel kisses him, to hide his tears, his fear and his shaking hands. 

Dean loves him. 

And shouldn’t that be enough?


	14. Chapter 14

Cas starts writing, and he doesn’t stop for a long time. Dean watches him wearily, still not entirely sure that he’s there, in his bed, sex-hair standing up in every odd direction and naked underneath the blanket that covers his hips. 

He’s so fucking beautiful that it hurts. 

They agreed that the best way to move forward now was to come clean. All the secrets that have hung heavy between them has torn on their relationship, and now they’ve had enough. Understanding that the love between them goes both ways was enough for Dean to open up, and now it seems as if Cas is doing the same. 

He still doesn’t know what to expect. Why Cas is so afraid of loving him, and being loved in return.

Images of Alastair flash by every time he closes his eyes, so he makes sure to continue watching Cas. It makes it easier. 

_He_ makes it easier. 

Every now and then he looks up, gazes at Dean without a comment and returns to his phone. Dean wishes that he’d write by hand again, but understands that maybe the guy prefers typing. He sort of misses his handwriting though. 

Dean’s on his side, head propped up on his hand and the sunlight breaches the curtains, throwing a sliver of bright yellow across Cas’ face. The way he takes a moment to close his eyes and feel it on his skin will be etched into Dean’s memory for a long time. 

When Cas finally shows his screen to Dean, he is surprised to only find one sentence. 

_I do not know how to even begin telling you anything._

”Oh, well, that’s alright. How about tell me something about your parents? Where do they live? Where’d you grow up?”

Cas gives a little frown and types a few quick words.

_Are you telling me that you want to hear about my childhood?_

”Cas,” Dean says, softer now, reaching out a hand but only daring to graze Cas’ elbow with his fingers. ”I want to hear about anything and everything you want to tell me. Come on, I’ll brief you through the heart-wrecking story of growing up as a Winchester in Kansas.”

He says it with sarcasm, but Cas’ expression tells him that a bit of pain slipped through. 

Ugh, why did he ever agree to do this? 

”Me and Sam were both born here in Kansas, we lived in this great white house in Lawrence, picket fence, green grass, annoying neighbors, you name it. My mom, Mary, and my dad, John, they never seemed to be very close to each other. But I don’t know. Whenever dad talked about mom he got this awed tone in his voice, like she was the only thing he’d ever loved. 

When I was four, there was a fire that burned down the house, and mom got stuck inside. The three of us managed to get out, and something cracked in dad that night. He started moving us around, living in cheap motels because he didn’t want to get a new house when he couldn’t share it with mom. Said we weren’t a real family anymore. Eventually he started drinking, sometimes so much that the motel managers kicked us out and we had to move on to the next one. I had to get him to bed every night, make sure he threw up before he went to sleep, give him a glass of water to stave the next day’s hangover. 

He got a few jobs here and there, construction, mechanic, anyone who’d hire him. I worked to, even skipping some classes in school to work because Sam was starting to talk about college when he was eight and I didn’t want to break his heart and tell him that he’d never afford it. 

I was sixteen when dad died of alcohol poisoning. He drank too much, and that should scare me because sometimes I drink too much, too, but it doesn’t. Sometimes it just makes me hit the bottle harder. 

So, dad was dead, all our money had gone to pay the hospital bills and we had no one. We slept in an alley by the hospital that night, and the following morning, Bobby found us freezing our asses off, and he took us home. Never told us that it had to be temporary, that he’d give us a few bucks to get home, never told us that we had to go. He just took us home and told Ellen that we’d be living with them from now on, and she only had to give us one look to agree with him. They’ve been our family ever since.” 

He pauses with a deep breath, once again stunned by how easy it is to talk to Cas. It’s easy because he doesn’t just sit there and listen, he gives a smile every now and then, sometimes a frown, sometimes he ghosts his fingers over Dean’s skin and it’s all those little things that are making him feel alive. 

And now that Cas is typing again, Dean promises himself that he’s going to do the same for Cas. 

_I grew up in New York. My father owned a large company, and he was away almost constantly. We had a large family, though, including me we were seven siblings, and we lived with three nannies and my stepmother. My parents got divorced when I was very young, too young to remember my mother. Father’s company was doing well for many years, but then the market started to change and in a few days it went from successful to having to declare bankruptcy. After that, father disappeared and I haven’t seen him since._

_When I finished high school I was going to college, evolutionary biology at KU, so I moved in with my sister Anna who was already living here. I dropped out eventually, and got a job through our cousin Gabriel who runs the Walmart where I work. I’ve been there for nine years now._

Dean reads, and it breaks his heart. Cas. Going to college. Leaving college before he was finished only to end up doing a job that a monkey could do. 

”Why did you drop out?” he asks, seeing the regret flicker on Cas’ face. 

_I got really sick, and was out for such a long time that I had to start the courses from the beginning again. Me and Anna were low on money and when Gabriel offered me a job I had to take it._

”Why didn’t you go back?”

He shrugs and looks away, pain evident on his face and Dean understands. He knows how easy it is to get stuck doing something out of force of habit. 

”It’s not too late, Cas. Sam said you were only a few credits short? Why don’t you go back to KU, do them on half time or something. You’d still be able to work.” 

Dean gets a soft smile in return, but nothing more, and it’s frustrating. But he takes a deep breath to calm his seething nerves, because now is not the time to get angry. Not when Cas looks so gorgeous next to him, head tilted to meet his eyes and the corners of his lips quirked up. 

”Tell me more,” Dean whispers, and Cas does. 

_I had a hard time in secondary school, because of a few assbutts (_ ”Assbutts, Cas?” Dean says, but gets nothing but an eye-roll in return) _in my year who dropped clever comments about my disability. My self confidence, which wasn’t much to brag about to start with, got really low and I stayed home from school a lot. When it was time for high school I switched to another school, but things were just as bad there. I_

He stops writing mid-sentence, and because Dean has been close enough to read the words as he writes them he notices before Cas deletes the ’I’ that’s hanging like a loose thread at the end of the page. 

Cas shifts a little in bed, and turns his body so he’s facing Dean, legs crossed underneath him and arms held close to his body. When he unfolds himself, he doesn’t bother covering his crotch and it has Dean licking his lips before he knows what he’s doing. Cas being completely comfortable sitting naked in front of him is adoring, but when he moves closer for a kiss, he is stopped by two fingers pressed to his lips and the slight shake of Cas’ head. He looks down, and Dean follows his gaze, landing on the criss-crosses of marks that briefly held his attention last night but he was a bit preoccupied to remember asking about them. 

”Cas,” he breathes, when he realizes what they are. He wants to be wrong, but the look on Cas’ face tells him that he’s not. 

There’s a fine pattern of scars on his thighs, white stripes of anger and pain and Dean runs his fingers over them, letting his hand rest on the warm skin. He looks up, gaze directed to the insides of Cas’ upper arms where he finds further proof of what Cas has done to himself.

It breaks his heart. 

”’m so sorry,” he mumbles, planting a tender kiss on Cas’ thigh and when hands automatically card through his hair he leaves his lips there, breathing him in. A few inches from his nose he spots a word, and even though he’s upside down he can easily read it. 

_WHY_

Just the one word, but it hurts like hell and if there are tears in his eyes he doesn’t fucking care. 

Cas does, however, and he must feel the wetness on his leg because he lifts Dean’s head up and wipes his thumbs underneath his eyes. 

”Have you ever… Y’know… Tried…?”

He can’t get the words out, he can barely form a coherent thought, but Cas nods ruefully and drops his hands and his gaze. 

Dean leans down to kiss each and every one of his scars. It’s the only thing he can do right now. 

”Don’t ever do something like that again, do you hear me?” Dean says quietly, but Cas turns his gaze away and he doesn’t want to listen, and Dean grabs his hands because this is so important. 

”Cas,” he breathes, and there must be something in his voice that convinces Cas to meet his eyes. ”If you die, I swear to god I will kill you.” Cas tries to avert his gaze again but Dean shakes him, doing whatever he can to hold his attention. ”Does it look like I’m joking to you? Huh? Shit, Cas, I love you so much and I can’t breathe because I feel like you’re falling apart in my hands and I don’t know how to put you back together. I’m so fucking scared of losing you, don’t you dare leave me. Not you too.” 

Fuck it, he’s not going to spend energy on trying to hold his tears back anymore. He can cry however much he want because this is something worth crying for. 

Cas angles his phone towards Dean’s face and he reads the blurry words.

_If I’m falling apart that’s because of you, Dean Winchester. I’m falling so hard and I do not care because this -_ he squeezes Dean’s hand _-is the best I have felt in a long time._

”Will you stay?”

Dean hates that his voice cracks but it’s worth it when Cas pulls him up for a kiss and nods and kisses him until they’re both breathless and half-hard underneath the sheets. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yes, this is a short one, but I'm so excited for the next chapter and going back to Dean's POV that I simply didn't have the patience to stay here for any longer. Thank you for reading xx

Dean fucks into him again that night, and god help him, Castiel doesn’t ever want him to stop. The long, slow drags of his rock hard cock against his prostate has him moaning shamelessly and tossing his head back and forth. 

Dean was right. He is falling apart, but he could not care less. 

They come, almost simultaneously, and when Dean falls on top of him, his hands cradling his head and tender kisses trailing his jaw, it’s the best he’s ever felt. 

Castiel keeps him inside for a long time. When Dean started to pull away he was slightly embarrassed by trying to stop him, but the pure look on Dean’s face was enough to stave the blush creeping up on his cheeks. 

He feels so full, so…complete, with Dean’s limp cock in his ass. Reflexively he clenches around it occasionally, making Dean gasp every time from the oversensitivity and he wants to apologize, but Dean kisses him instead. 

Laying there, locked onto Dean and come drying between their stomachs, never breaking eye contact, it’s the most intimate thing Castiel has ever experienced. 

He’s so in love with this man, and he wants to shout it out to the world. For now, it’s enough to remind Dean by sharing his breaths and nipping at his swollen lips. 

Dean mumbles gruffly just as Castiel notices it. 

”Oh shit, oh god, oh-” 

He punches out a breath and Castiel only has to roll his hips a millimeter to feel the pressure building in Dean’s cock once again. 

”Cas, I don’t know if I can-uh-OH-do this again so soon, I mean-SHIT-we’re not exactly teenagers anymore and-”

Castiel kisses him and bucks his hips up, and Dean actually whimpers. He is worried for a split second that he’s hurting Dean for real, and is ready to stop when teeth clamp around his collar bone and a hand wraps around his seeping cock. 

Their frantic movements become somewhat more synchronizes as Dean’s impressively hard cock pounds into Castiel, his hole stretched and ready but he’s still so oversensitive that every thrust wrecks his body. 

He wonders fleetingly if it’s possible to die from pleasure. 

The hand jerking his cock matches Dean’s thrust expertly, and the sounds of their breaths and skin slapping skin is enough to send them both over the edge before long, Dean cursing through the whole procedure. 

”Shit-fucking-OH GOD-son of a bitch,” he yells out, and Castiel thinks back to the first time they met, to wrecked cars and swearwords and green eyes in the morning light. 

They might be absolutely worthless at not pissing each other off and scaring each other away, but one thing is certain:

They will always come back to each other. 

 

Dean slips out after, still grumbling about how he’s getting too old for this and that he’s never having sex again, and he stutters off to the bathroom, leaving Castiel naked and exposed on the bed but he feels so at home. 

His body falls into a state of near-sleep, completely relaxed and he feels as though he’s flying. At some point, Dean comes in and washes him up with a washcloth, spreading tender kisses along his spine that has him begging for more. 

When Dean returns, they wrap around each other and Castiel has a last thought pass through his mind before he truly falls asleep. 

If he was to die right now, in Dean’s arms, he would not mind it one bit after the night they’d just had. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woop, woop, well, this was fun to write and I'm beginning to think that I'm a bit of a sadist. I think it's for the best that I'm only 'god' of this story and not the real world, jeesh.

Dean doesn’t fall asleep even though Cas is snoring next to him. He’s tired, his limbs like lead and his head too heavy for his neck, but he can’t stop listening to Cas’ breaths. How can he sleep when Cas could stop breathing any second now?

He said that it happened every night, right? That means that it will happen soon. And then he’ll go to sleep. 

The inhalator is on the bedside table next to Dean, close enough to reach in a split second. 

When Cas sleeps, the lines in between his eyes smooth out and he looks so much younger, so pure. Dean takes his time to take in his features as if it is the last time he will see them. The thought alone scares him, and he forces it away. 

Cas is here, and he’s so beautiful, and damn it, Dean loves him to death. 

He loves him enough to stay awake and watch over him, and wait for him to start panicking and wake up when he stops breathing. 

Dean’s eyes flicker from the inhalator to Cas’ face, and it takes a while for him to process how still Cas has gone. How quiet he is. How his chest is no longer doing it’s calm rise and fall. 

He doesn’t wake up. 

”Cas?” Dean calls, and shakes his shoulder carefully, wincing as Cas’ head lolls back and forth. 

”Shit, Cas?” he exclaims more forcefully, turning Cas’ limp body on the bed so he’s on his back. His face is slack and his mouth opens, and Dean doesn’t know what to do because he was supposed to wake up and he isn’t waking up and-

”Calm the fuck down,” Dean orders himself and takes a deep breath, feeling like he’s stealing Cas’ oxygen. He tries to rationalize his thoughts and think back to the CPR-lessons in school ten years ago. 

”Pulse, check for his pulse,” he mutters, and presses to fingers to Cas’ neck. He almost misses it, but then he feels the clear and steady pulse against his skin. Since he already knows that Cas isn’t breathing he finds himself at a loss of what to do next. Mouth-to-mouth? Is that even going to help? Cas told him that the problem was his throat constricting and his diaphragm slacking off, and maybe it’s not enough to try to breathe into his mouth-

”Call 911 you _idiot._ ”

He reaches for Cas’ phone on the bedside table and unlocks it with shaking fingers, first typing the wrong passcode three times and then the wrong number - the _wrong fucking number_ \- before he finally gets it right and presses the phone to his ear as if his life depended on it. 

” _911, what is your urgency?_ ” a shrill voice answers, and it clears Dean’s head only marginally. There are people out there who can help. People who know what they are doing. 

”Hi, uh, I need an ambulance, Elm Street 1205, apartment B. My boyfriend is not breathing, and he’s got this thing, um, anarthia I think he called it, and he’s not waking up,” Dean rambles, and when he falls silent he wishes that the word filter in his head was working more properly. The guy on the line doesn’t seem to care, however, and is quick to reassure him. 

” _An ambulance is on it’s way, it’ll take a few minutes. Please stay on the line._ ”

”Okay, yeah,” Dean mumbles, putting the phone on speaker and then on the bed as he turns back to Cas’ limp body. 

” _Sir?_ ” the voice calls, and then, ” _Sir, are you still there?_ ”

”Yeah?”

” _Do you know CPR? It’s okay if you don’t, I can walk you through it. If your boyfriend’s brain goes without oxygen for too long there can be permanent damage_. 

_You don’t say_ , Dean wants to spit out, but he bites back the words. 

”I know enough, I think.” 

” _Good. Is he on a smooth surface? Preferably the floor, if that’s possible._ ” Dean curses under his breath and steels himself from any emotion as he straightens up, eases his arms under Cas’ torso and legs and lifts him up, surprised by how light he is. He carries him around the foot of the bed and sets him down gently, then goes back for the phone. 

”He’s on the floor now.”

” _Great. Check if his airways are clear, it’ll help if you tilt his head back a little, then, if you’re comfortable doing it, I would advise artificial ventilation._ ”

”English, please,” Dean grunts as he tilts Cas’ head back, hands never handling something so delicately before. 

” _Mouth-to-mouth, if you’ve found a pulse there’s no need for compressions_ ,” the guy says, and the words have barely left the speaker of the phone before Dean presses his lips against Cas’ and forces air into his lungs. He can almost feel the blockage in his throat, but if only a little bit of oxygen makes it in he will consider that a win. 

The guy on the phone keeps talking, asking him if there’s any change and telling him to stop if he starts feeling light-headed, but Dean knows that he will have to pass out before he stops. 

The minutes blur together and Dean barely takes notice of the flickering blue lights streaming in through the windows, or the harsh beating on the door. 

”Hello? Anybody in there? We got an emergency call from this adress, and we’re going to break the door down.” 

Dean straightens up at that, and it goes against every instinct in his body but he leaves Cas on the floor.

”I’m coming!” he yells while running, and has barely gotten the door unlocked before the paramedics are bursting inside, looking at him for direction. 

”Bedroom,” he gasps and points them towards the door, and suddenly the floor is dancing up towards him and two strong hands grab him to cushion the fall. 

”You alright?” a smooth voice calls and he looks up into green eyes. 

”’m fine, take care of him instead.” Dean tries to push her away but she only gives him a sly grin in response. 

”There’s two guys in there already, and right now I’m more concerned about you.”

”It’s nothing, I just gotta catch my breath.” 

”Yeah you do,” the woman chuckles and helps him up into a sitting position. 

”The call mentioned ’anarthia’, what else do you know about your boy in there?” 

”He hit his head when he was a kid, and is mute because of it. He told me that he-uh, his brain doesn’t work that well when he’s asleep and his throat sort of constricts. And something with the diaphragm.” He stumbles on the words, and _shit_ , he should know this, but he doesn’t, and his breaths are going rapid again and the woman in front of him grabs his shoulder hard. 

”That’s really helpful, you’ve done good. You’re alright,” she soothes, rubbing her thumb into his skin and the panic that’s been building up inside him seeps away. 

”Son of a bitch,” he gasps and she chuckles again. 

”Bit of a panic attack there, eh? Don’t worry, he’s in good hands now. You’ve done everything you can to help him. I’m gonna go over there and tell them what you told me, and then we’ll be on our way. I’m afraid you can’t ride in the ambulance, so you’re going to need your own ride to get there. Do you have anyone who could go with you?”

Dean nods, despite not knowing who he’d ask to go with him, and she trails off quickly, the words ’anarthia’ and ’ventilation’ echoing around the room.

 

Bobby doesn’t usually care much for speed limits, but as he drives Dean and Anna to the hospital, Dean is surprised to find that his piece of crap car can even move so fast. Anna’s looking a little green next to him, but she’ll manage. She has to. 

Ellen’s up in the passenger seat, her hand reached back and wrapped around Dean’s calf. The touch is comforting, but he can’t tell her without starting to cry and now is not the time for that. 

They reach the hospital and the worst anti-climax of Dean’s life, because the only thing that’s happened is that the little plastic bag they’d used to squeeze air into Cas’ lungs has been replaced by a machine. 

The doctors say that there’s nothing else they can do for now but wait. Wait and see when - if - he wakes up. 

Wait and see if he’s even capable of waking up again. 

Anna and Dean take a chair on either side of his bed and hold a hand each. Cas’ cheeks look hollow, the rings under his eyes deeper than they were before - or are they? Dean can’t tell anymore - and Dean can barely look at him. 

Anna falls asleep with her head on the bed. 

Bobby and Ellen are in the waiting room. 

Dean can’t fall asleep, not when Cas is sleeping next to him. He has to watch him, has to make sure he sleeps alright. 

Has to make sure he keeps on breathing. 

 

Dean watches Cas in silence, because what else can he do, and realizes something that makes his heart beat irregularly in his chest. 

Cas is sick.

He’s really, really sick. 

He’s beyond just being mute because he hit his head when he was a kid. His lungs refuse to cooperate when he’s unconscious and there’s a tube going down his throat to force the oxygen inside. If he wakes up, he’ll panic and try to pull the tube out and he’ll scream for help with the silent voice that only Dean seems to be able to hear. 

If he doesn’t wake up, well… Dean doesn’t ponder too much on that thought.

Dean feels stupid for fighting with him. It’s seems like that’s all he can do, fight and make him mad and then come crawling back, begging for forgiveness. Not for the first time, he thinks that Cas deserves better. Someone who doesn’t just say that he loves him, but actually shows it as well. 

”Dean, you should go home and get some sleep. We’ll stay with him,” Ellen says gently from the doorway. Dean stubbornly shakes his head and inches closer to Cas, never once daring to let go of his hand because if he does he might never be able to hold it again. 

”I’m fine right here,” he says quietly, and barely notices the pie and to-go cup of coffee that’s placed beside him on the bedside table. 

”Just, call us if something changes, alright? I’m going home for a bit.” 

Dean waves her off and tears his eyes off Cas to look at the little cardboard box of pie. 

He realizes that he’s not hungry, but takes a sip of coffee if only for the caffeine to wake him up. 

What if…?

What if he never gets to see those brilliant blue eyes again?

What if he never gets to feel those lips against his?

What if Cas doesn’t wake up?

 

Anna wakes up and leaves to make a few phone calls, presumably to the rest of the family. She and Dean don’t talk much, but they take comfort in each other’s presence. In the fact that Cas is is surrounded by two people who love him very much. 

Dean sends off a text to Sam to give him an update, but doesn’t answer when he calls. 

”Not now, Sammy,” he whispers, and pockets his phone again. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry xx

”Dean,” a voice calls, and Dean starts, eyes on Cas immediately. The name leaves his lips before he can stop it.

”Cas?”

”Still the same,” the voice answers, mistaking where Dean’s question was directed. He turns around quickly to find the source of the voice and realizes that it belongs to Anna. As he moves his back pops and he can feel his muscles protest, and he wants to go back to sleep but now he has to share Cas with her. 

He doesn’t mind, not really, because he can all too easily see Sam in Cas’ position and sharing him with Jess. He forces the thought away. 

Anna sits on the chair that his hers now, and fidgets a bit. Dean wishes that she’d stop. 

”Your brother called your cell so I answered.” Their eyes meet and she winces when she sees his confusion. ”Sorry,” she adds, thinking that he’s upset when he’s really too tired to understand why she’d have his phone. He sees it on the bedside table where he put it…a few hours ago. 

”You’ve been out for a while,” Anna offers as an explanation.

”Huh,” Dean mutters in response and rubs a hand over his face. There’s quite a bit of stubble on his cheeks, and he tries to remember for how long he’s been here. His phone shows 10 pm, which makes no sense because he must have called 911 around midnight, and-

Oh.

”Oh,” he says out loud and Anna quirks an eyebrow at him. ”Have we been here all day?” 

”No, _you’ve_ been here all day. I went home to get some sleep around dawn, then tried to get you to leave.”

”I- I don’t remember that.”

”I don’t think you heard me. It’s alright.” 

”’m sorry. What did Sam say?”

”He wanted to know how Castiel is doing, and if he should fly out.”

”He should definitely not-”

”I told him to stay where he is. I think I convinced him.” Dean nods approvingly and leans back in his chair. It’s stiff and hard in the wrong places, but he doesn’t have it in him to care. 

Cas is motionless, the only proof that he’s still alive the steady movement of his chest. Up and down. Inhale, exhale. Rise and fall. 

Dean gets lost in watching him again, and zones out Anna’s voice. 

”Dean, are you listening to a single word that I’m saying?” 

”I’m sorry, what’s that?” 

”I was asking if you want something to eat. I’m going down to the cafeteria to check it out.”

”Some coffee’d be nice.” 

”Do yourself a favor and stop being so stoic. Castiel is not going to get any better just from having you at his side,” she snaps, and Dean sees the instant she regrets the words but he stops her before she can take them back.

”I think we’re both entitled to being a bit mean, don’t you? I’ll have some pie, if they have it. Just a sandwich otherwise.”

”Alright,” Anna says softly, and gives his shoulder a squeeze before leaving the room. 

Cas keeps on breathing. 

Dean inches closer to him, needing to feel his presence, the heat radiating from his skin. 

”You’ve gotta wake up, Cas,” he whispers, pressing his lips to his hand. ”I don’t want to do this without you.” 

He watches the machines and realizes, with a sinking heart, that they are breathing _for_ Cas. Without them, he’d be dead by now. 

A knock on the door breaks through his thoughts and he ignores the burn behind his eyelids. A female doctor walks in, one Dean recognizes from earlier, and she flashes a small smile. 

”I’m just here to check on his vitals. You can stay,” she says, and Dean watches listlessly as she walks to the monitors surrounding the bed. She scribbles a few notes into a file and closes it, turning towards Dean.

”I’m Dr. Dorothy Baum.” She holds out her hand for Dean to shake, but he only watches it warily, forgetting every concept of social interaction. ”I’m the head of neurosurgery here at the hospital, and I’m here to talk to you about Mr. Novak’s options.”

”Options?” Dean asks, blinking slowly. God, he needs to sleep. 

”Yes. I want to believe that he will wake up, and if that’s the case, I want to take him to surgery. We ran a few MRI’s at his arrival, and I found a- a lump, you could call it. Yes, a lump of tissue that’s formed by his spinal chord, rendering a part of it useless. This part is crucial for the autonomic nervous system that controls the breathing, which is the cause for Mr. Novak’s current state. If he wakes up, my boss will let me do a minimally invasive surgery where I remove the scar tissue, and if all goes well Mr. Novak should then be able to breathe just fine.”

”For real?” Dean scoffs, because he’s not quite believing what he’s hearing. She’s speaking as though Cas has already woken up, though, and Dean has to remind himself that this is still just a big ’if’. 

If he wakes up. 

If he doesn’t? 

”I figured I’d let you think about it. After all, there’s nothing we can do unless he wakes up.” She turns to leave, but Dean’s voice stops her.

”Hey, Doc?”

”What’s that?”

”D’you think he’ll wake up?” 

Her eyes soften marginally at that, and she tilts her head ever so slightly to the side. 

”I hope so. God, I really do and I shouldn’t get invested in this because he is my patient, but I want him to wake up. I want to know why you haven’t left his side in twenty hours. I’m a real sucker for love stories,” she adds, winking at him before finally leaving. Dean turns back towards the bed and takes Cas’ hand again.

”Please wake up,” he whispers.

When Anna returns he tells her what the doctor told him, and at first she seems a bit confused.

”Help him breathe? He only wakes up like once every few weeks. I don’t think that’s enough for a surgery.”

”Anna, he wakes up every night,” Dean says carefully, because he thought that she knew this. Her expression tells a different story. 

”Every night?” she breathes, and he nods. ”Oh my god.”

”Yeah, that sort of sums it up.”

”No, seriously. What if this had happened some night when he was at home? I would have been asleep while he was-”

She can’t get the words out, and Dean doesn’t blame her. Tears form in her eyes and she buries her face in her hands, causing something to tug at Dean’s overprotective-sibling-strings and he crosses the room to her chair, wrapping her up in a hug.

”It’s alright, good thing I watched over him, huh? Had a feeling something like this might happen,” he lies, but if it stops her from crying then he thinks that that’s okay. Her sobs quiet down and he pulls away, placing a hand on the side of her head. 

”I got makeup on your shirt,” she says quietly, trying to rub at the two black spots on his chest. 

”Perks of dating a guy, I guess,” Dean chuckles and moves her hands away. 

”You really love him don’t you?” Anna has a soft smile on her lips that shine through her tear-streaked cheeks, and watches him tenderly as he sits on the edge of Cas’ bed, fretting with the sheets a bit. 

”I really kind of do.” He turns his eyes to Cas, gaze flickering across his face and he realizes that the last time their lips touched was when he was trying to keep him alive. He can’t even kiss him now, not when there’s a tube going down his throat, held in place with a piece of tape. 

”He loves you too, you know. I know that he’s not good with voicing his feelings, but he does. And he’s been…” her voice trails off, making Dean turn towards her with a question written on his face. 

”He’s been what?”

”Happier. Better. Less…depressed, if I’m allowed to apply that word to him. I think you make him happy.”

”That’s all I ever wanted to.” 

 

Days pass, and Dean reluctantly goes home every now and then when even the nurses are starting to pester him about sleep. 

Doctor Baum returns a few times, her previously hopeful tone starting to lose it’s spark. Dean realizes that she’s giving up. 

He’s never going to give up. He’ll do anything just to see those blue eyes once again. 

 

Bobby asks him if he wants to come back to work. He ends the call instead of telling him to go screw himself, because that’s really not a way to speak to his stepdad. Ellen visits occasionally, telling him that Jo misses him and revealing that she does, too. 

 

Sam keeps calling, and Dean keeps texting him back. It’s only been a week. Cas hasn’t been sleeping alright for years, so maybe this is a good thing? Him getting some rest? 

 

Anna’s visits grow more irregular. Dean doesn’t want to blame her, he really doesn’t, but it’s difficult not to. Cas is her brother, for crying out loud. 

 

Doctor Baum tentatively starts to tell him about something called DNR and to think about whether Cas would want to be kept alive by machines for the rest of his life. He tells her, as politely as he possibly can, to go fuck herself. 

 

”You gotta wake up, Cas, I’m begging you. I need you. Please don’t leave me.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The one you've all been waiting for xx
> 
> (see what I did there?)

Castiel feels like he’s choking on his own body before he realizes that there’s something in his throat, and he starts spluttering and gagging and saliva mixes with snot on his face, and he just wants to _get it out_. 

Hands are suddenly on him, holding him back and shouting and they are tugging at him, pulling his lungs out through his mouth, and it scrapes and burns and hurts and suddenly the sensation disappears. 

When he leans forwards to throw up, there’s a bucket already waiting for him and he gratefully buries his head in it. He is dry-heaving, his body convulsing on itself, because there’s nothing left to throw up but somehow he can’t stop. 

A soothing voice reaches his ears, broken by tears and Castiel knows who it belongs to even though he can’t see Dean’s face. The hand between his shoulder blades makes little circles in his skin, and he lifts his head up to take his first breath of air in days. It tastes like hospital and vomit and starched blankets, but he can’t get enough.

When his stomach finally settles enough for him to lean back in the bed, he feels just about ready to pass out. 

”Mr. Novak?” an unfamiliar voice calls, and when he frowns he can hear Dean’s voice again. 

”Call him Cas,” he grunts, and Castiel lifts the corners of his lips into a smile. Yes, Cas. Dean’s nickname for him, created just because he couldn’t read phonetics. The first thing that Dean gave to him, besides the warmth of his smile. 

”Alright, Cas. Do you know where you are? Squeeze my finger once if you can hear my voice,” it continues, and Cas feels a finger in his hand. All the power in him seems drained, but he manages a squeeze. 

”Good, that’s good. Do you know what happened to you? Squeeze one time for yes, two for no.” 

One for yes, two for no. 

Three for ’I love you’. 

He hesitates at the question, trying to make sense of the jumble of thoughts that is his brain. What had happened? 

Dean had fucked him, taking his time to make sure that they were both shaking messes after. His cock had been buried so deep inside him that they had almost been one. The memory makes Castiel smile, and Dean speaks again. 

”Well? Does he remember anything?”

”Be patient, Mr. Winchester,” the woman, who is clearly a doctor, says. Castiel returns to his memories, knowing nothing more than falling asleep in Dean’s arms. 

He squeezes twice, and can hear Dean’s soft ’shit’ as he inhales sharply. He wants to reach out, wants to tell Dean that it’s alright, that he’s awake now and that they can go home, but his limbs feel like lead and every movement is painful. 

He can at least try to open his eyes, fighting heavy eyelids until he is rewarded by the sweetest sight of all: Dean, in the flesh, wearing a wrinkly t-shirt along with jeans and more than one night’s worth of stubble on his face, but his tired face lights up as he meets Castiel’s eyes. 

”Hey, gorgeous,” he says quietly, grabbing Castiel’s hand tightly. ”I knew you’d wake up.” 

Castiel manages a smile and he shudders when Dean kisses him lightly. He’s perched on the edge of the bed, warmth radiating from his body, and it makes it just a fraction easier to listen to what the doctor has to tell him. 

She looks to be a few years older than him, two golden rings on a chain around her neck and her dark hair held back in a neat bun. 

”Mr. Novak- Cas,” she begins, offering him a professional smile. ”Mr. Winchester has been kind enough to inform us of your medical history, seeing as the files from your last stay were too old to be saved. Your anarthia slash mixed dysarthia has unfortunately affected the nerves controlling your diaphragm as well, leading to a temporary paralyzation that causes your lack of ability to breathe while sleeping. I can tell that you’re struggling a bit now, too, am I right?” 

Castiel nods, feeling Dean’s hand tighten around his fingers at the revelation. He’s never told Dean that every breath he takes is agony for him. 

”Well, I have good news and bad news. Actually, two bad news, and one good one, depending on how you-”

”Doc, just tell him what you told me,” Dean cuts in, and the doctor collects her wandering thoughts. 

”Bad news: we won’t be able to give you your speech back. There’s just too much nerve damage, and unfortunately no one has the skill to reconstruct nerves just yet.” Castiel is not shocked at the news, not even disappointed, because he has never allowed himself to get his hopes up. He doesn’t have a voice, it’s that simple. 

”Your breathing problems, however, we might be able to fix.” 

Castiel’s heart stops for just a split second, before it starts up again in a frantic speed as if to make up for the slight interruption. 

”We’ve run some MRI’s on your brain and spine while you’ve been here, and there is a clump of tissue that’s formed around the nerve ending controlling your breathing. If we manage to remove it, there’s a good chance that you will be able to breathe and sleep just fine.” 

Castiel shies away from her words. He can’t listen to her, can’t imagine a life where he can sleep because if he does, he’ll just miss it when it never happens. He’s shaking his head and he doesn’t know how and when that started, but he can’t seem to stop. 

At least not until two warm hands firmly take hold of his cheeks and forces him to meet the green eyes. 

”Cas, do you get how great this is? They might be able to cure you!” Dean exclaims, but Castiel closes his eyes. 

Could they really…? 

”Listen to me, Mr. Novak. It’s a high-risk operation as always when it’s got to do with the spine, but I’m the best at what I do and you’re in good hands. If you want my professional opinion, I think that with the way the insomnia is affecting your health you really need this operation if you want to live a full, healthy life.” 

”What do you mean ’affecting his health’?” Dean barks out, and Castiel tries to get him to stop by squeezing his hands. 

”Insomnia is a very serious condition, Mr. Winchester. Your boyfriend has not had a good night’s sleep in twenty-one years, which wears on both the body and the mind. Weight loss, inability to concentrate, memory loss, chronic headaches,” she starts ticking the symptoms off on her fingers, and Castiel sinks deeper and deeper into the bed with every one that he recognizes. He thinks of his skin and bones of a body next to Dean’s toned chest and chubby stomach. Not being able to finish that last course at college because he hadn’t slept for nearly a week. 

As he thinks about it, he wonders how he is still alive. _Why_ he is still alive is a different matter, one he’s being trying to take into his own hands once too often, but how? How has his body been strong enough to carry him through all those late hours when all he wanted to do was sleep? 

He doesn’t know. But he knows that if he ever wants to be able to share a home with Dean, to be able to sleep in the same bed as him without making him suffer through his problems too, he has to give this a shot. 

He locks eyes with the doctor and nods firmly. 

”Alright,” she replies, both of them ignoring Dean’s protests. ”I’ll schedule you for surgery tonight, a nurse will come and prep you in a few.” 

Once she’s left, Dean is practically fuming. 

”Why haven’t you told me how sick you are? I’ve exhausted you, forcing you to spend all that time with me when you really should have rested, and-” 

Castiel knows that his expression is enough to make Dean fall silent, but for the first time he wishes that Dean would keep rambling. Anything but the solid nothingness between them now. 

Castiel lifts a hand towards his lips, touching them lightly while raising an eyebrow towards Dean, and god bless him, he understands. A warm body snuggles up next to Castiel and soft lips caress his, nibbling and pecking and Castiel lies perfectly still to savor every sensation that passes through him. 

He finds Dean’s hand and squeezes it three times. 

_I love you_.

”Love you too,” Dean murmurs and they stay like that until a nurse comes in and Dean has to climb off the bed. 

 

As a mask starts descending onto Castiel’s face he closes his eyes and brings up the image of Dean, of green eyes and soft lips and freckles like the stars in the night sky. He takes a shuddering, strained breath and then he falls asleep. 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm posting the last of it now just because I don't feel like keeping y'all waiting. This is the last real chapter, next one's a bit of an epilogue xx

Cas in on his side now, because there is a bandage on his back and he’s not to put any pressure on it. Dean is resting his head on the bed, close enough to card his hands through raven black hair and feel the soft puffs of air that is Cas’ breathing. 

There’s a thin tube crossing Cas’ face, held in place behind his ears with two little exits going into his nostrils. Dean thinks that it has to tickle, but Cas doesn’t seem to mind. 

He is sleeping, and he is breathing, and it’s the most peaceful Dean has ever seen him. 

”As long as you wake up,” Dean whispers, and his chest constricts when eyelids flutter open and reveal bright blue eyes filled with wonder. Dean can feel the corners of his mouth lift up into a grin as Cas takes a breath that doesn’t hurt. 

 

A few days later, Cas is allowed to leave the hospital. Dean drives him and Anna to their apartment, but when he tries to leave Cas pokes his head in through the rolled down window and kisses him fiercely, pulling away with a gasp and he holds one finger up towards Dean. 

_Wait for me_ , he says, and Dean nods. He turns the engine off and leans back in the seat, thinking that he’ll have a few minutes to kill, but Cas returns quickly with a bag in his hand and a soft look in his eyes. The impala purrs to life, and the drive to Dean’s apartment is filled with longing looks and soft touches. 

Cas is on him before they’ve even entered the apartment, and Dean can’t help but laugh as he blindly unlocks the door and lets them in, shrugging their coats off and somehow their shirts and pants follow just as quickly. Cas all but climbs on him showering him with kisses as Dean carries them both to the bedroom, where he backs up and falls on the bed with Cas on top of him. Their lips are unwilling to part, even as Cas’ hands travel south and touch every inch of Dean’s skin, making him feel alive in a way he never thought possible. He reciprocates the touch when he can, distracted by the sensations running through his body. 

Cas pulls their underwear down and discards them while Dean reaches for the drawer by the bed and pulls out a bottle of lube, the coconut smell surrounding them and they both laugh at the memory of the last time they used it. 

Dean holds the bottle in his hand, suddenly knowing exactly what he wants but still deeply afraid of it. 

”Cas, I want you to fuck me,” he says, and Cas’ eyes widen. There’s a question in them, asking if he’s sure, telling him that it’s okay if Dean tops, but Dean won’t hear it. 

He’s made up his mind, and he trusts Cas enough to do this. To not hurt him. 

”It’s alright. I trust you.” Cas takes his breath away with a kiss and grabs the lube, squirting some on his fingers. 

They keep kissing as Cas’ fingers circle Dean’s hole, and he can feel the anxiety rising in his chest but then Cas squeezes his arm, reminding him that he’s safe. That this is his angel hovering above him, and not the demons from his past. 

Cas’ lips make their way down his throat and chest, and he nips at Dean’s nipples while his gentle fingers prod at the ring muscle that’s clenching reflexively, and then slowly, oh so slowly a finger is pushed inside. Dean’s breaths come out in short bursts, but he encourages Cas to continue with a single squeeze of his arm, and the finger goes deeper. 

And it doesn’t hurt. It’s just smooth, slick pleasure, and Cas starts pumping his finger in and out, reaching for that spot inside him and Dean moans as he hits it. 

Cas stops momentarily, finger buried all the way to the knuckles, and reaches up to lick into Dean’s mouth, letting him adjust to being breached again. He slowly starts to thrust into Dean once again, and before he knows it a second finger slips in and the stretch feels so delicious that a groan escapes Dean’s throat. The two fingers go further, deeper, and Dean is writhing when Cas adds a third, coning them slightly to widen Dean’s hole further. 

He doesn’t tell him that he’s ready, that he should get it over with, because he’s afraid of moving too fast. Cas understands, and just keeps fucking him with his fingers, until he’s so stretched and the emptiness is so eminent that he’s all but sobbing on the mattress. 

Cas squeezes his arm, a question, and Dean replies to it with a kiss. 

Sometimes, you don’t need words to communicate. 

With Cas’ fingers still inside him, Dean hears the sound of the bottle opening again, accompanied by the smell of beaches and sun and Cas pretty much drowns his cock in lube, making sure to add some more to Dean’s hole as well. Fingers help hold him open as the head of Cas’ cock nudges at his entrance, and he’s such a mess now that he can’t even beg for more. 

Agonizingly slowly, Cas pushes his way inside, fingers drifting away and Dean opens his mouth as Cas finally bottoms out, balls snug against his ass. He stays like that, gasping for breath above Dean. Dean wants to save this image of him forever. 

”’m good,” he whispers, and it’s enough to entice a shudder through Cas’ body, followed by the gentlest of movements, pulling out just an inch before easing back inside. Dean responds by canting his hips towards Cas to pull him in deeper, and Cas moans softly. 

The slow movements grow more forceful, more erratic as Cas pulls out further with every thrust, ending up with nothing but his head breaching Dean’s hole before thrusting inside, hitting Dean’s prostate and he’s a shaking mess but he loves it. 

Dean comes first, his cock untouched and the sheer amount of come should embarrass him but he’s too high to notice. His whole body clenches up, including the muscles around Cas’ cock, and he can feel the blood pressure rising inside him as Cas stutters out a breath and comes inside him. 

They shower together, and once they’ve dried off they crawl under the sheets naked, already wrapped around each other. 

Cas falls asleep, breathing evenly and smoothly. Once Dean realizes that he’s going to keep breathing, he falls asleep, too. 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know that the ending came a bit quickly, but I'm starting to feel like I can't get anything else out of this story and I don't want to torture you with any more chapters when the plot is sort of...done. Hope there aren't any loose threads you're still wondering about, but if there are, I'm more than happy to sort it out (I HATE loose threads in stories, hate them). 
> 
> This has been one of the most time-consuming and exhilarating things I've done in a long time, and once again I just want to thank you so much for reading, for leaving kudos, for commenting and keeping me motivated to continue. I love y'all for reading, and I may as well tell you that a new fic recently popped into my head that I may or may not scribble down....
> 
> The title of this fic comes from the Imagine Dragons song "Hear me", a favorite atm. I was startled by how well it suits the plot and Cas' feelings, especially the chorus:  
> Can nobody hear me  
> I've got a lot that's on my mind  
> I cannot breathe  
> Can you hear it too?
> 
> This is the end of this story, and I've had a blast. Hope you've had a good time reading it too xx

_Two months later_

Dean and Cas are visiting Sam and Jess in California, and the weather is so brilliantly beautiful that they can’t spend the day anywhere but on the beach. As Sam pulls out a bottle of coconut Hawaiian tropic sun lotion to rub onto Jess’ back, Dean and Cas break out into a hysterical fit of giggles and Sam and Jess will never know why. 

 

_Twelve months later_

Cas goes back to school to finish his last courses. The night before his final exams, Dean offers his ’help’, which includes a blowjob underneath the desk and Cas spreading his papers all around the room. He ends up fucking Dean in the shower later, water everywhere and Dean pulls them out to lie on the bathroom floor instead. Cas folds up a towel underneath Dean’s head to spare him from a concussion as he thrusts into him. 

 

_Two years later_

It’s their two year anniversary, celebrated with dinner at BL’s burgers and a late night walk back to Dean’s apartment, which is more like their apartment now. They pass the intersection where Cas hit his car all those months ago, and Dean is fiddling with something in his pocket just as Cas kneels down in front of him. 

”Damn it, Cas, I was just about to ask you.” 


End file.
